The Whispering
by TsoLan
Summary: When Daphne suffers a personal tragedy, she resolves to carry on as normal, for her family's sake. Life goes on- increasingly dangerous mysteries, the never ending feud between Fred and her father... and a deadly monster terrorizing the streets of Coolsville. Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue: Dawn

**Dawn Blake**

Perhaps I shouldn't have left without my friends. I was pretty drunk right now, but surely it would have been better to wait for them? I swore under my breath, kicking a stray soda can down the street ahead of me. I checked my phone, shocked to see that it was past three in the morning. I'd had too much to drink- I knew that. I also knew I should have gotten a cab, but...well, you know how it is when your drunk? Things just never seem to matter much.

I sighed deeply, zipping up my waist-length leather jacket. It was freezing out, and the wind was starting to pick up. I switched my phone to selfie mode, peering at my reflection. There I was- twenty-seven years of age, my shoulder length hair a brilliant ginger, my face as soft and lovely as ever. I knew how beautiful I was, of course. I didn't boast about it, but I knew. All us Blake girls were gorgeous. I was perhaps a shade too thin, but that was part and parcel of being a model. I continued down the sidewalk, aware that I had a long way too go. I stumbled slightly, the booze still scrambling my sense of balance. I needed some food! Surely I had _just enough_ for a late night hot-dog? Not the most glamorous of food, but needs must.

So I found a particularly grim take-away, and ordered my hot-dog. I was tempted to stay inside and eat it, but no...no, I'd attract way too much attention here, and from all the wrong sorts of people. I ate and walked, leaving the city-centre and strolling down the residential streets, back home to my little apartment. As I walked, I passed luxury apartments, manor houses and penthouses, feeling a pang of jealously. I wanted this! Sure, daddy was rich. I'd spent my childhood in his manor house, the second of five sisters. But I wanted _my own_ riches! Was it too much to ask? I didn't think so. My useless agent had promised me so much, and thus far...nothing.

I finished my meal, feeling all the better for it. It had tasted cheap, gristly and slimy, but it would help with the hangover tomorrow. I looked around for a bin to get rid of the wrapping. I peered down a short alleyway between two high rise buildings. In the gloom, I could just about make out the shape of one of those massive great bins, the kind that all the residents share. Perfect. I walked quietly down the alleyway, and lifted the heavy lid. Tossing the wrapping into it, I lowered it quietly, and turned to leave.

Except...

"Hey lady!" came a child's voice from inside the bin.

I felt my heart skip a dozen beats, and wheeled around, clutching my chest. Cautiously I lifted the lid again, and used my phone's torch to peer down into the gloom. Gasping, I looked down, ignoring the stench of rotten food and decomposing waste. Inside was a little boy, probably no more than eight or nine. He was wearing a strange brown smock, complete with a flat-cap and what appeared to be knickerbockers. He looked like he'd stepped out of the 1800's. He was staring up at me, grinning broadly. His little eyes shone with mischief. He was holding my discarded wrapping in one hand.

"Were you a little peckish, lady?" he asked me, giggling. He spoke in a high, cheery voice, with a definite British accent. He lisped noticeably when he spoke. I shut my eyes, and opened them again. Was I dreaming? Hallucinating? Had someone spiked my drink? No...he was still there, still smiling.

"Erm...yeah." I replied uncertainly. "Sorry, I er...I didn't mean to drop that on you."

"Ohh, that's fine!" the boy insisted, "You shouldn't eat these thingsh though. They're bad for your health."

I laughed. "Yeah, well...I needed to eat. Listen kid, uh...what are you doing in there? Shouldn't you be tucked up in bed?"

He giggled again, his bright eyes sparkling. "I like it here. I sleep better. Mom and dad have always got strangersh around, and they make a lot of noise."

I frowned. "Strangers? What kind of strangers?"

"Bad people!" he replied. "I think they are doing drugsh, lady. So I sleep here instead."

"you can't be serious..." I said. I'd come to a decision. I'd found a kid sleeping in a bin, on a cold October evening, with his parents allegedly holding some kind of pot-party. Not on my watch. "Come outta there, buddy." I said to him, in a firm but hopefully comforting voice. "I think a little trip to the police station might be in order."

I expected him to say no, yet his eyes lit up with glee. "Police? Yesh! Yesh, good idea. Can you help me out?" he asked, stretching his arms up. I shuddered a little. The boy had spent goodness knows how long in there. I'd probably catch something...but then he looked up at me with pleading little eyes. "Pleash...I can't get out without help."

Sighing deeply, I reached into the bin and took his hand...

/

/

 **Daphne**

I woke up groggily, and glanced at my bedside clock. Eight in the morning! On a Saturday! No chance. I shut my eyes again, hoping to doze off. But then I realised my phone was vibrating. That's what had woken me up. I grabbed it off the table, and glanced at the screen. Mom? She never got up at this hour. Puzzled, I answered.  
"Hey mom...what's going on?" I said.

An hour later, me and my three remaining sisters were sitting at the Coolsville Emergency Medical Center hugging each other, not saying a word. Dawn, my beautiful sister, was lying on the bed in front of us, not moving. She never would again. She'd been found face down in an alleyway, freezing, her clothes ripped and bloody. She'd survived the trip to hospital, survived being hooked up to life support. But her injuries were too much. She'd died half an hour ago. I gazed down at my older sister, my lovely, beautiful older sister. It was too much. Tears poured down my face, and I cried aloud, hugging my mother tightly. My father, normally cool and emotionless, stood with his hand on my mom's shoulder. Crying softly. I'd never seen him cry before. Ever.

Because it was bad enough that she was dead. It was horrific, shattering and unbearable. But I haven't yet explained the worst part, the part that made the poor, unsuspecting ambulance crew scream out loud when they pulled her lifeless body around, face up. I gazed at Dawn, yet I couldn't look at her face. I just couldn't...

Someone had gouged her eyes out.


	2. Something Bad

The next few days passed in a blur of misery, tears and an unshakable, gnawing pain that seemed to sit on my heart. I couldn't get free of it, not even when I slept. Dawn haunted my dreams every night. On a good night, I might be reminiscing of nicer times- the two of us laughing together, family holidays from many years ago, days out shopping...all the times I'd taken for granted. On a bad night, I'd meet Dawn in a darkened alleyway. She'd smile at me, and reach out for a hug, her empty eye sockets leering at me, almost mocking me. I'd wake up in the pitch-black, sweating and shaking in my bed.

The funeral came and went- I seemed to be on autopilot throughout the whole thing, my body working of it's own accord, while I watched as a simple passenger. The gang would insist I stay behind while they went out on Mysteries, and I'd sit in the lounge at HQ, the television on, a bag of potato chips in my hand. The chips would remain uneaten, and the show unwatched. Instead, I lost myself in thought, shutting out any distractions. I had a lot to think about.

A lot of answers came to me on one such day. I sat there, a bad of unopened chips by my side, some terrible soap opera blaring out at me. Dawn had been murdered. There was no doubt about it. The cause of death was given as blood loss, shock and brain damage, the result of her eyes being ripped out. Worse still, they think she would have been conscious throughout the whole thing. But this was as far as their knowledge went. There was no trace of DNA on her body, no CCTV, no nothing. And her eyes...they hadn't been cut out. They'd been _pulled_. The police knew nothing, and the thought of getting any justice for Dawn seemed to get slimmer by the day. They had nothing to go on.

But I did. Because I believed in monsters. My time with Mystery Inc had taught me many things, and one lesson was more important than any other- usually the monsters transpire to be a scared and shameful person in a suit. Usually.

But not always.

Now and again, the monsters were real. Spooky Island. The monster invasion of Coolsville. Hambridge Library. It happened. Rarely, but it did. And now my older sister had been savagely murdered in the middle of a smart neighborhood. Unless the police were doing a spectacularly bad job of investigating (which wouldn't surprise me), it seemed that there was no logical explanation for what had happened to Dawn. That just left the illogical. Monsters _were_ real.

"And there's one here." I announced to the empty room. "There's something here, in Coolsville. Something bad."

I rose to my feet, and walked over to the window. I peered out into the gloomy Autumn weather, and in that moment, I knew I was right. I couldn't explain how I knew it. But I did. There was something here, and it had killed my sister. She'd been twenty-seven years old...and it had killed her. "I've got you rumbled." I whispered under my breath. "I don't know what you are, but I know your out there..."

I shared my suspicions with the group that evening. Scooby had put himself to bed already, exhausted after a particularly stressful mystery. We sat in the lounge and I explained what I thought. What I _knew_.

"Look guys, we know monsters can exist. We've met them, now and again...is it really so impossible that Dawn was killed by...something else?"

Fred was sitting next to me, and he slowly put his arm around me. "Daph," he said soothingly "you've got to stop this. Whatever happened to Dawn, they'll find out. You know what Coolsville can be like. Think back over the past couple of years alone! Biker gangs, drug runners, the Russian mafia...even the Iron Giants are rumored to be in business again...all that, on top of the crimes that we uncover. I think what I'm trying to say is that when Coolsville is stuffed full of so much scum, jumping to these sorts of conclusions...well, it might actually make it harder to get justice."

"I agree." Velma piped up. "There's no doubt that whoever killed Dawn was extremely careful about it. But as Fred says- undesirable people seem to flock to Coolsville." Shaggy sat next to her, nodding gravely.

"I wonder _why_ that happens." I replied, looking Velma in the eye. "All big cities have crime problems, but why does ours get it so bad? Coincidence? Or maybe something about Coolsville attracts them. Now excuse me." I got up abruptly, brushing Fred's arm aside. I went to my room and slammed the door. They didn't believe me. Not Fred, not open-minded, super-intelligent Velma. Not even Shaggy...I collapsed face down on my bed, tears leaking from my eyes. I wanted her back...I wanted my big sister! She'd always looked out for me, always been there. But now she wasn't. And it was breaking my heart.

/

/

The next night, I sat in my parents dining room, a plate of soup laid out in front of me. My parents had been having us all over a lot recently, and I didn't feel I could say no. They were cherishing their remaining daughters, holding us close for fear of losing us as well. They didn't think about how hard it was for me to come home, to a house filled to bursting with memories of Dawn. Why would they? I didn't blame them.

"Daphne." My father said slowly. "I had a call today..."

I sat up straight. "About Dawn?"

"No, no. About you. Your friend called me. The clever one, whatever she's called."

"Velma."

"Whatever. She's been worried about you, Daphne. Are you coping?"

I looked up at my father, and then round to my mother, who sat silently, focusing on her soup. She didn't say much these days.

"No, daddy. I'm really not." I put my spoon down, and extended my hand, grasping the top of his own. "I miss her."

He nodded, grasping my hand, his larger hand fitting comfortably around my small one. "Me too. Look, Daphne. I want justice. Every darn night I go to sleep wishing with all my heart that something will come up. A witness, a DNA sample, anything. But sometimes we can't have what we want. It might be that the answers we want don't ever come forward. But your young, Daphne. You've got a whole life ahead of you, and if we don't get the answers, you can't spend your life angry, you can't waste your days in bitterness. You need to try and move on."

"Seeing you live life to the full would make it easier for us." My mother said suddenly, looking up at me with red, bloodshot eyes. "Not much, but a little. Please, Daph. Whatever's on your mind, whatever your thinking...let it go. Let the police do their job. But as your father says, the answers may not ever come. Even if they do, it won't bring Dawney back. Think on that."

I nodded. "We're so used to getting the answers though." I whimpered, tears welling up in my eyes. "Me and the team. We always get to the bottom of it, one way or the other. The thought of never knowing...it..."

My dad rose from his chair, and hugged me closely. "I know Daph. I know. It kills me as well, but sometimes, you have to accept it."

"Yeah..." I replied. A clap of thunder caught us all off guard, and we looked out of the high windows in dismay, a thunderstorm raging down on us. "Can't you feel it though guys?" I asked suddenly.

My mother shook her head. "Feel what?"

I didn't answer immediately, my eyes were fixed on the window, on the rapidly soaking city outside. "I dunno...it's like the city's sick, or something." I said finally.

My dad shrugged. "That's Coolsville, Daph. It's never really felt right."

Later that night, I lay in my bed, my mind set. I would stop. I wouldn't mention it again. Whether I was right or wrong, I needed to try and move on, for their sake. I feared I'd only succeed in driving myself mad if I continued, and even if I could catch who (or what) had killed my sister, what then? Get killed as well? Is that what I wanted for my parents? Another child dead? Of course not. However hard it was, however miserable I might feel, I needed to try and move past this. I had to. And yet my father's words kept repeating themselves over and over in my mind. "No!" I whispered to myself. "Stop thinking about it." But I couldn't. I couldn't get them out of my head.

"That's Coolsville, Daph. It's never really felt right." That's what he'd said. He was spot on. I'd never noticed it before, it had never crossed my mind until now- but Coolsville hadn't felt right for as long as I could remember. I'd just never thought about it. It was only now, in the wake of such appalling tragedy, that I finally began to realize how very wrong it actually felt.

And why? Because there's something terrible here. Something. Not someone.

The sun was already rising before I finally slept.


	3. July

Taking my parents' advice to heart, the next few months passed with relatively little to mention. I was still hurting of course, yet normal life seemed to be creeping back. I starting going out on cases again. I socialized, I shopped. I even laughed, now and again. Not often. The police were no closer to finding the answers that me and my family craved (and I knew they wouldn't, couldn't) but at the same time, I began to feel more and more able to just...not exactly repress the agonizing desire to get to the truth, but kind of just ignore it. I'd put it to the back of my mind, and allow it to go on burning, yet I was learning to leave it there, to not bring it back to the forefront, where it would block out any other thoughts, gnawing at my heard and mind, threatening to overwhelm me. It was like owning a particularly aggressive tiger, and keeping it on a firm leash in the garden shed...sort of. I wasn't happy. I was desparatley sad. But I was functioning. I was going through the motions of normal, everyday life. And I wasn't doing too bad.

That all changed on a blisteringly hot day in July. It had started off as a normal mystery. The local art gallery was being plagued by a figure from one of the pictures, an angry and aggressive old lady in a green robe. We'd split up and searched for clues. Fred and Velma one way, me Shaggy and the Scoobster the other. We'd been changing the teams up a little lately. I think Fred was getting annoyed with how little Shaggy and Scooby achieved on their own.

We patrolled the empty, frankly rather dull corridors of the museum, gazing vaguely at the portraits and paintings adorning the walls, Scooby Doo trotting a little ahead. "Do you think the cafeteria's open, Daph?" Shaggy asked hopefully.

I raised by eyebrows. "The whole museum's been shut for four weeks, Shagy. I'm guessing no."

"Yeah, but do you reckon the kitchen's unlocked? It might like still be fully stocked!"

I shrugged "Whatever. If we come across it, we'll have a look. This is way boring."

"Ryeah!" Scooby barked "Empty."

"Yeah, pal. We need food!" Shaggy laughed. "We can't work on an empty stomach."

I scoffed "The pair of you are unbelievable, you know that?"

"Oh sure!" Shaggy replied. "You've met my family, Daph. Like, how can you expect anything but weird from me?"

"True, true." I said. "But then look at my folks. I turned out pretty normal, and that's saying something, having been raised by them two."

"Oh yeah. No offence Daph, but like, your dad scares me even more than half the mysteries we solve."

I smiled faintly, not truthfully enjoying the banter. I was too hot. The air conditioning was switched off, and the whole museum was airless and stuffy. I was on the verge of suggesting that we head straight to the cafeteria,when my phone rang. Quickly pulling it out, I answered on the third ring. "Yo."

"Daph, we saw her! We saw painting woman Daph!" Fred's voice sounded hysterical. "Get up to the third floor right away."

"Got it." I rung off. "Third floor Shaggy. Let's go."

We sprinted back to the elevator and rode up to the third floor. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door opened. Velma was standing right outside the doors, her face a picture of mad happiness. "We've set a trap!" she announced. "The woman's chasing Fred right now- what we're gonna do it this..."

Five minutes later, I stood in the empty elevator, a large net in my hands. I had to admit, it was a pretty decent trap. Scooby and Shaggy had the stairs blocked off. Fred was fast- he'd outrun the woman and hide. When he did, she'd retreat back to whatever hiding place she'd been using. She wouldn't be able to use the stairs. That left the elevator. She'd call it, expecting to be empty. It wouldn't be. I was here. The doors would open, and I'd plunge the net over her, trapping her. Simple.

I couldn't help but feel claustrophobic though. I was alone in a tiny little box, in total silence. My mind started to conjure up bizarre and unlikely horror stories. What if the gang got killed out there? What it the woman knew I was in here, and shut off the power? Nobody had been in this museum for weeks, besides us. I'd be trapped, all alone. I'd die of thirst...mom and dad would lose another daughter.

"Keep it together, Daph!" I hissed to myself. "Keep it together." I was being silly. Of course I was.

And then the elevator started moving.

I looked around, panicking. Why had it done this? Who could possibly have called it? Everyone was on the third floor, where the elevator car had been parked, behind the closed doors. Then I remembered- some elevators liked to retreat to the ground floor automatically after a while. Don't ask me why- do I look like an elevator mechanic? But I knew that it sometimes happened. I relaxed a little. It didn't matter much. Eventually, I'd be called back up to the third floor. I'd get the woman, as planned. No biggie.

Except the elevator didn't stop at the ground floor. With a thrill of horror, I watched the little screen go past "G" for ground, and continue descending. I was going to the basement...underground. I stood where I was, my heart thumping. The elevator stopped with a clatter. Maybe it was all right? Maybe it stayed at basement level instead of ground level when it wasn't in use? Made sense didn't it? This was the bottom of the shaft, after all. But then the doors opened.

I gulped, not daring to leave the elevator. There was nobody by the door. Nobody had called me. The basement was murky, and I couldn't see very far ahead. But nobody was waiting by the doors.

I peered into the darkness. My heart stopped. In the gloom, I could make out a small figure standing several yards ahead. I placed my foot against the door, stopping it closing. "Hey!" I called "Who is that?" It looked like...no, it couldn't be? It looked like a child.

All at once, the lights turned on.

The basement was musty, full of boxes, books and artwork yet to be displayed. I gasped. There was a kid here. A little boy in some weird old outfit. He was staring at me, smiling broadly. Eyes twinkling. "Hi pretty!" he cooed in a British accent. "What ya doing in there?"

I gulped. "Um...I could ask you the same?" I said. "What are _you_ doing here little man?"

The boy didn't answer. Instead, he pulled something out of his heavy overcoat. He held it in his hand, waving it in front of him. "It'sh for you!" he said warmly. Puzzled, I looked at it...it looked like wrapping paper. White wrapping, the sort of thing burgers were wrapped in. Or hot dogs...

"For me?" I repeated, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.  
"Yesh!" the boy insisted. "Inheritance!" Then he began to laugh. He had deep, booming laugh of a fully grown man. I shrieked in terror, launching myself back from the door. I slammed my finger on the button. "Close!" I screamed to the doors. I looked out. A horrific cracking noise was emitting from the boy, like every bone in his body was breaking. But that wasn't what was happening. His bones weren't breaking, they were growing. His clothes were changing. I watched in horror. His little body twisted, contorted and warped, shooting upwards. Even his clothes were making that cracking noise, as it they were flesh and bone like the rest of him. Within moments, the kid had gone. A tall, gaunt man stood in his place, wearing a musty black suit, complete with a top hat. "Stay there ginger!" he bellowed in a deep, gravelly voice. He charged towards me, yet he didn't seem to be running- he almost glided, faster than anyone could ever run. I collapsed to the floor of the elevator, still hammering the button. The doors finally started closing, but it wouldn't be quick enough...he was closing in on me...he was almost inside...

The doors shut with a fraction of a second to spare. I burst into terrified sobs. The elevator slowly began rising, taking me away from the boy...man..whatever it had been. I watched the screen desparatley. Ground floor...first...second...come on, come on! Third! I tumbled out of the doors, dragging the net along behind me. Stuff the plan! If I stayed in there, he might call be back down. And then what? I'd been doing this job long enough to recognize when people were truthfully trying to kill me. That thing had been. I saw it in his eyes. But what _was_ he? How had he grown like that? How...

A noise from down the corridor alerted me suddenly. I looked round. Someone dressed up as a woman in a green cloak was charging towards me. She saw me on the floor, shaking and crying, and stopped uncertainly. I shakily tried to stand up, but I found that I couldn't move. Shaking her head, she turned around and tried to run back the way she came. She walked straight into Fred, who grabbed her round the mid-section and hauled her to the floor. He looked at me, panicking, jumping to conclusions. "Did she hurt you?" he demanded. "Did she do something?"

I couldn't reply. I shook my head vigorously. "There was s...something in the basement" I managed to say. That was all I could say. Half an hour later, the woman had been unmasked (in reality a man, the previous caretaker who wanted to smuggle out some of the more valuable paintings and sell them), and I was lying on a hospital bed, surrounded by the team and my parents. I'd been examined all over, questioned relentlessly, and examined some more. There was nothing physically wrong. I said there wouldn't be. I'd got away in time. But that hadn't stopped Fred calling an ambulance, bringing me here. Finally, after four hours, they'd let me go. That night, I couldn't face going to bed. I lay sprawled out on the sofa, feeling light-headed, sick and terrified. It wasn't coming face to face with a real monster that was making me feel this way- as I've said, now and again we did find real monsters. It had been what he'd said to me. He'd described that wrapper as inheritance. Something you receive from a friend or loved one who's passed away. So he knew about that...and that wrapper. From a hot dog? Probably. Just the kind of thing a young, drunken boy or girl would buy after a night out...

I shut my eyes, two horrible thoughts on my mind. One, I'd come face to face with the thing that killed my big sister. Two, I'd run away from it. I'd run like a coward. I'd thought that I'd gotten away, but all I felt now was a stab of guilt. I might have got away, but also I'd let _it_ get away. I rolled over on the couch, falling into a deep and uneasy sleep.


	4. Robson

Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck for the weeks following my encounter with the creature. I slept only very lightly, jumping awake at the slightest noise, plagued by incessant nightmares when I did manage to sleep. I didn't tell my parents about what had happened, and in their company, I tried hard to act normal. But Fred knew something was wrong. He always did. He tried to talk to my father about it, but my old dad and he don't see eye to eye. My dad deplores Fred with a passion, and the conversation ended with Fred being thrown bodily from my parent's house. So, changing tact, he took me aside one night, a couple of weeks after it happened, and spoke to me quietly.

"Daph, you've gotta talk to me." he implored, clutching both of my hands in his. "You know how much I care about you. I want to help. Just tell me what's wrong."

So I did.

"Look Freddie...you know me. You know I don't scare easily, you know I don't hallucinate or anything. I'm telling you- I saw a boy in that museum, and he practically admitted killing Dawn."

"Did he though? What were his exact words?"

"He had some dirty hot-dog wrapper, and he said it was my inheritance. Think about it Freddie! After a night of hard drinking, what's the first thing you do once it's over?"

"You pass out!"

"No, no, no!" I snapped aggressively. "You get some junk food! You get hungry, and you end up buying anything and everything that's bad for you. Burgers, deep-fried chicken, hot dogs...anything like that."

"Your sounding just like Shaggy right now." Fred replied, plainly upset. I'd never spoken to him like this. I would have felt bad, but I was too scared and exhausted to care.

"How can you not believe me, Fred? Seriously? After all we've been through over the years. After all we've seen..."

"Look Daph" Fred said, trying to keep his voice reasonable. "I absolutely believe that you might have seen something odd. But hasn't it occurred to you that it might have just been the caretaker's accomplice? Something like that? Even if he did say what your telling me...it means nothing. Your putting two and two together, and your coming up with the answer you want, however implausible it is. Did you not think there might be a sensible explanation?"

I looked up into his face, anger flooding through my body. I jerked my hands out of his and stood up. " _A sensible explanation?_ " I repeated angrily. "I saw a little kid, who grew into a full-sized man in a split second. He killed Dawn! He killed her! I know it. I know he did! If you aren't going to believe me, I need to find someone who will. Anyone."

An hour later, I sat alone on my bed, my laptop resting on my legs. I brought up the Google homepage. But what to ask for? I thought for a moment, before typing "coolsville monster" into the search ending. I raised my eyebrows. The top results were media reports of our previous cases! Further down, they became utterly irrelevant, and in one case, wildly inappropriate. Biting my lip, I tried again. "coolsville ghost". Again, reports of Mystery Inc's past escapades. "coolsville ghost boy." Same story. "Think!" I told myself. Disenchanted, I typed in "coolsville boy old clothes". The first three results were irrelevant. But then I saw it. Fourth result down, a link titled "Have you seen this child?" My heart skipping a beat, I clinked the link. There he was! On the front page of the website, an ancient black and white photo had been uploaded. It was the kid! There was no mistaking it. I felt my blood freeze when I looked at the caption. The photo had been taken in 1965! But it was the boy. He was standing in some sort of courtyard, his features blurred but unmistakable. Wearing exactly the same clothes as I'd seen him in. I scrolled down. A phone number was printed underneath. "Call me." said a caption next to it.

So I did.

/

/

That's how I found myself sitting here, outside a retirement home on the other side of Coolsville. I sighed, checking my phone. The old codger had agreed to see me at noon, and he still hadn't showed. I frowned, hoping he hadn't forgotten. I gazed around the home's front garden, admiring the flowerbeds. Say what you will about the oldies, but they know their stuff when it comes to gardening. Flowers of all colors blew lightly in the warm summer breeze. I smiled, watching a particularly old couple walk hand in hand along the lawn, not a care in the world. How long had they been together, I wondered? Probably more years than I'd lived. Would Dawn ever have settled down, I wondered? What would she have been like at that age? I'd never know, because she never would be.

"Miss Blake?" came a croaky voice behind me.  
"Woah..." I stood up hastily, wheeling round. A cheerful old man stood behind me, his hair pure white and wavy. He was clean shaven, tall and despite his walking cane, he stood up steadily and straight. He was dressed in a full beige suit, with a red rose sticking out of his breast pocket. His black shoes gleamed in the sunlight, and he wore small golden glasses. "Yeah, that's me." we shook hands. "Thanks for seeing me at such short notice, Mr. Robson."

"Please, please." he said, waving away my thanks. "Thankyou for coming to see me, though I suspect it's not for a pleasant reason. My family emigrated to Hawaii last year, and thus my only visitors these days tend to me by accountant and my doctor. Neither of them make for very good company, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that..." I replied awkwardly. "Well, uh...shall we go to the coffee shop or something?"

"Certainly, and I'm buying." Robson offered me his arm. "May I, madam?" he asked, chuckling.

I giggled. "You certainly may sir." I linked arms with him, and we walked across the lawn.

The retirement home smelled damp, musty and wholly unpleasant. We stood in the large atrium, which reminded me of a photo I'd once seen of Coolsville Hospital back in the 1950's. Catching sight of my face, Robson smiled. "Yes, the smell is rather grim isn't it? But one gets used to it after a few days. Now, shoes off.. One of the house rules I'm afraid."

"Oh, ok..." I said reluctantly, pulling my white and pink sneakers off, wishing I'd worn socks. Standing on the ancient carpet, I felt it's itchy, rough material between my toes and shuddered, the sensation making me shiver with discomfort. I held on to Robson as he bent down to take his own shoes off, slower and more shakily than me. He straightened up, and I caught sight of my face in both of his immaculately polished shoes.  
"We have to hand them into reception." he told me, leading me to a thin, scowling man on the help-desk. "You'll get them back when you leave."

"Well yeah, I should hope so." I exclaimed. He chuckled, and let me through a door marked "refectory."

We sat down on a small table in the corner of the smart lounge, me with a mocha and him with a hot chocolate. He'd insisted on paying, despite my insistence to the contrary. "No, no!" he exclaimed firmly, pushing my money away when I tried to pay. "I insist."

"Well thanks. It's awesome to meet such a gent." I said, meaning it. I hadn't met many men like this before. My father was a terrifying whack-job, Fred was the classic high-school jock, and as for Shaggy...yeah.

For at least half an hour, me and Robson talked enthusiastically, about the summer, his family, my family and my future plans. He spoke very little of his own life and career, a surprise considering how very impressive it had been. In his prime, Robson had been a renowned biologist and author. That's where he'd met his wife, whom he showed me a photo of. She'd died four years previously, and he'd left the little house they'd shared together, unable to bear being there on his own. He'd lived with his son for two years, but upon being diagnosed with dementia, was admitted to this place. I was a little sad talking to him- I knew this was probably him on a good day. And I knew that these good days would slowly become more and more rare for him.

It wasn't until we'd finished out drinks and lapsed into friendly silence that he sat up straight, moving his chair a little closer to the table. "So, let's get down to business." he said briskly. "You explained why you wished to meet me over the phone, but explain again, just so I fully understand."

"It's simple really." I replied. "I want to know about the monster. The thing that lives in Coolsville. And I think you know a little about it?"

"Yes, indeed. In a way, you've joined a club my dear. Like a handful of others over the years, you've come to believe that Coolsville is home to something evil. Something not quite of this world?"

"Yeah." I said quickly. "You really believe me, don't you?"

"I do, I do." he assured me. "Shall I tell you why?"

"Definetley."

"Because for twenty years of my adult life, I was stalked by it."

I stared at him. "Twenty years?"

"Quite. It started when I was in my thirties, living and working in Ironport, just a few hours down the road. But I came to Coolsville a lot with work. A research lab here often invited us over for presentations, things like that. And every time I did, it would come after me. Never in Ironport. But whenever I was here. I'd look round, and he'd be there. Sitting in the lecture hall, watching me as I drove, even following me down the street. Nobody else ever saw him. Only me."

"Always the boy?"

"No. Usually the boy. Sometimes the man. He can be any age he wants to be. Sometimes he'd be a youngster, about your age. Other times he'd look well into his nineties. But always the same person. You can tell."

"I can't say I noticed that." I admitted, but thinking back to my chilling encounter, I realised that it was true- he might have morphed into a man, but it was the same person, just older. Same face, same eyes. Same demeanor, to an extent. I'd been too terrified to notice at the time. "Did...did he ever try to hurt you?" I asked shakily, not really wanting to know the answer.

"He didn't try. He did." Robson pulled back the sleeve of his beige blazer and shirt, revealing his forearm. Several long, purple scars ran down his arm. Scratches?

"He did that to you?" I gasped.

"Oh yes. When he caught me alone, he'd inevitably chase me. Sometimes he caught me. I feel sure he would have killed me, but I was always lucky- someone always came in time. He _always_ ran when someone else came. In the end, I learned simply to stick close to someone every time I came here. He still followed me, but he never attacked me again. Ever."

I nodded. "But what is he? What do you think he is?"

Robson shrugged. "My expertise lies in science, Daphne. Not monsters. In all the time he followed me, I never once spoke to him. Ever. He'd talk to me, mock me, try to scare me. I never engaged with him. That always seemed to annoy him. But I'm telling you now, my dear- be ever so careful from now on.

"Why?"

"The little club I mentioned? Most of them are dead. Murdered brutally in unresolved circumstances. One was found with his head torn right off. The other with her tongue in her hand. One of them had been turned inside out. The most recent one was found with his hand eaten off. _Eaten_ off. The teeth marks were never identified."

"And he got my sister..." I replied distantly. "Mr. Robson...do you know how I might stop him?"

He laughed out loud. "Stop him?" he repeated incredulously. "Daphne, I'm sorry about your sister. So sorry. But you need to move on. Perhaps that's why he came after you, he knows you know about him. Perhaps he knows you want to catch him. Don't! Move on, and hope he does the same."

"You mean, hope he leaves me alone and moves onto his next victim?"

"I didn't say that."

I stood up, holding my hand out. "Thankyou Mr. Robson. Thanks for everything. But I have to go. I can't take your advice on this. Whatever he is, I want him finished."

He shook his head. "You can't do it."

"How do you know? Did you ever try?"

He said nothing.

I thanked him again, and left, collecting my shoes from the irritable guy on reception. I sat down to lace them up, wondering who invented this stupid rule. Sure, I get that it's meant to be all homely and cozy for the old people, but this place would need more than a rule against shoes before it felt anything resembling homely or cozy.

I left, breathing a sigh of relief as I walked out of the stuffy, smelly old house. The sweltering heat hit me like a wall, but I ignored it. For some reason, I felt good. Finally, I'd met someone who believed me. Despite how horrible his story had been, despite his dire warning, my mind was set. I didn't know how and I didn't know when, but I was going to find this thing again one day. And when I did, I was going to kill it.


	5. The Guard Dogs

The Milton Brothers Film Studio! Only the hottest place in Coolsville, and we were invited! Well, technically, we'd already been once. The case of the Red Knight. But obviously that had been work. We never had much of a chance to enjoy the place, nor meet any of the stars. Sadly, we wouldn't today either. The movie lot had a new unwelcome resident, a strange four-armed hairy thing that had all but closed the place down.

The film set was old, eerie and abandoned. Me and Velma paced around, taking care not to disturb any of the paper-thin set walls. Knock one down, the whole thing could collapse. It was unfinished, and looked as though it was going to be an office block if (or indeed when) production could ever continue. First of all, we had to deal with this thing...

"Daphne, are you all right?" Velma asked me quietly.

I shrugged. "Not so bad. Why?"

"You've been ever so quiet recently. Really unlike you. I heard you get really snappy with Fred a couple of days ago..."

"Oh, yeah. Him and my dad were arguing again. I've had enough of it, truth be told. I wish they'd just leave each other alone."

Velma nodded wisely. "They can't, Daph." she explained. "Not yet, anyway. Fred wants to be with you, and hates your dad for trying to stop that. Your dad thinks Fred isn't good enough for you, and hates him for thinking that he is."

"You know what, I'm beyond caring. I still don't know what I want anyway...I mean, come on! I've had other stuff on my mind these last few months."

"I'll say." agreed Velma. "But uh...please don't hate me for saying this, but you can't take it out on Fred, Daph. He just wants to help."

"I know." I replied sadly. "I just...I can't help it sometimes."

Velma nodded again, touching my arm briefly. "Come on. Let's focus on the job, huh? Can't solve a mystery by walking aimlessly around chatting."

"You sure?" I replied, laughing. "Normally, that's exactly how we solve the mysteries."

We froze. Something was ahead of us.

Velma pulled her phone from her pocket shakily, switching the torch on. The beam of light fell on a shape, a large furry shape on the floor. It looked familiar. "Scoob?" I asked uncertainly. It looked vaguely like him...

"He's upstairs with Shaggy." Velma whispered.

The shape opened it's eyes and stood up. At once, I could understand why I'd confused it with Scooby. Before us stood a Great Dane, a slightly smaller one than our Scooby, but not by very much. He eyed us nervously, pawing the ground.

"Don't worry." I muttered, reaching into my handbag, pulling out a small packet of Scooby Snacks. I held one out to the strange dog. At once, his expression changed and he bounded forward, snatching the treat gently from my hand. I ruffled his head. Velma took hold of it's red collar. "Marmaduke!" she laughed, reading the little tag on his collar.

"Like the movie!" I giggled. "Looks a lot like him as well."

"Yeah. But what's he even doing here?"

"Maybe he's like the studio pet or something...or a guard dog? Pretty rubbish one if so." I laughed, scratching his ears.

Velma giggled, patting his wide back. "Come on, let's find the others. We can introduce him to Scooby and Burch. I doubt we're gonna find much by way of clues in here."

/

/

Scooby took to him instantly. Burch less so. Burch was Scooby's uneasy friend, a grumpy and antisocial old pitbull terrier who we'd rescued from a horrible existence as the pet of a violent criminal gang. They'd treated him like dirt, and he was deeply mistrustful of people. But now again, he'd come on mysteries with us, sticking closely to Scooby. Not often. He usually slept down some back alley these days, but now and again he'd appear just as we were leaving and claw gently at the back doors of the Mystery Machine, demanding to come along. We let him. It kept him happy, and although we never admitted it to one another, we all felt a lot safer when he came- although essentially good natured, Burch was capable of inflicting serious injury if he so wished. He'd accidentally broken Shaggy's leg once during a game of Frisbee, so goodness knows what he could do if he really wanted to. He sniffed Marmaduke cautiously, not getting tremendously close. Scooby rolled around the floor in front of Duke, his legs up in the air.  
"We're not keeping him as well!" I told Shaggy firmly.

"Like, I know that. He's the studio's property, isn't he?" Shaggy asked, confused.

"Anyone's guess." replied Velma. "We just found him. We'll ask Earl and Doug when they come back." The Milton brothers had scarpered shortly after explaining the problems they'd been having. They agreed to come back at dawn, hoping that the mystery would be solved by then.

/

/

An hour later we found New York. We'd split teams again, me with Shaggy, Scooby and Burch. Duke tagged along, despite our insistence he stay put. When I say New York, I'm stretching the truth some what- in fact, we'd stumbled upon was amazingly crafted replica of New York, and the attention to detail and accuracy was staggering. The top of the Empire State Building was a few inches taller than me, and there were even tiny cars carefully placed on the road. I guessed it was for some sort of monster movie, something like that.

"Woweee Scoob!" Shaggy exclaimed "Look at this thing!"

"Ryeah!" Scooby agreed, sniffing the model in curiosity. I bent down to the shorter buildings, laughing. There were tiny silhouettes in the windows, and the brickwork on the buildings looked weathered and aged, astonishingly realistic.  
"Enjoying yourself, pretty?" came a cold, deep voice from in front of me.

I shook my head. No. Not here...now now...please not here...

Slowly I looked up, and standing on the other side of the replica city I saw him. The man, the older man. He was looking right at me, an angry snarl on his face.

"Shaggy..." I muttered. "Tell me you see him?"

"See who, Daph?" Shaggy asked, looking around the room.

"He's right there!" I pointed at the man. "Right there! Standing in front of us...please tell me you can see him."

Shaggy shook his head. "Nah, Daphne..." Shaggy said, starting to sound a little scared. As far as he was concerned, I was hallucinating.

But Scooby Doo had seen him. So had the other two dogs. They snarled aggressively at him, their teeth bared.

The man looked away from me, and gazed at the dogs, not an ounce of fear on his features. He looked back to me. His eyes were cold, lifeless and devoid of any emotion.

"Doggies!" he exclaimed, but his voice was once again that of a happy child.

Quite what happened next I wasn't sure...I gazed at the man in horror and loathing, my confidence already building to reckless levels. Here he was again! I could get him! Me and the three dogs...we could kill him, surely? Whatever he was, how could he survive that? I took a deep breath, ready to charge at him, hoping the dogs would have my back. But as these vain, dangerous thoughts crossed my mind, the man's entire body collapsed in on itself. I watched, rooted to the spot, as he melted into the ground, leaving a sinister black puddle and nothing..no, that wasn't true. There was something...a mist of some sort. It was very faint, almost impossible to spot, but I could just make it out...I watched as it flew across the room, past me and straight into Marmaduke. I saw it fly into his mouth. He swayed slightly, and then growled softly...

"Like, Duke...you all right?" Shaggy asked him, concerned. I sensed the danger before I saw it.

"Shaggy, get back from it!" I screamed, but too late. The Great Dane leapt at Shaggy, and he stumbled backwards into the wall. I heard the sickening crunch of his skull against the plaster, and he slumped on the floor his eyes glazed. Bright red spots appeared in his chest, the dogs' claw marks. Marmaduke pounced again, teeth bared. But before he could get within an inch of Shaggy, Scooby Doo was on him, dragging him away and throwing him onto the miniature city. He stood over Duke, terrified but determined- nobody hurt Shaggy and got away with it! Burch reared up next to Scooby, his savage and powerful face gazing down at the injured dog. I ran to Shaggy and put my fingers against his neck. His pulse was strong and steady, but he was out cold. "Guys!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Although the suddenly aggressive Marmaduke was subdued, the creature was still here...he could hop right out of Duke and attack us. But he didn't. Instead, Duke stood up and grinned at me. I heard his jaw muscles crack- dogs' jaws aren't made for smiling like that, but he was doing it. "Big ol' movie lot Daphne Doll!" said the child's voice, emitting from the dog. "You reckon it's only got one guard dog? Ding Ding! Who's up for round two!"

A door at the far end of the room opened, and out of it came the biggest, ugliest and most powerful Pitbull I've ever seen. I gasped. Burch was an old, spent creature, but this thing was in the prime of it's life. It's spiked collar gleamed in the overhead lights. I could make out it's name clearly on the lethal collar- Algeron. Scooby and Burch exchanged a look. Scooby wheeled round to look at me. I shook my head desparatley. "You two gotta hold em off..." I murmured, grabbing Shaggy by the collar. "I can't carry him, I'll have to drag him. Just hold them off!"

I looked on in horror as the four dogs stood facing each other, standing on the miniature version of New York city. Scooby whimpered as Marmaduke reared up on his hind legs, looking down at his cowering opponent and snarling.

Burch and Algeron, standing near a miniature high rise apartment building, pounced on each other at the same time, crashing into the model tower and pulverizing it instantly. They began clawing and biting at one another with their claws and teeth, crushing some of the miniature houses and buildings as they rampaged around the set. The sudden noise and commotion startled Marmaduke, who looked round in alarm. I watched in awe as Scooby, in a rare show of intelligence, took advantage of this, launching himself at Duke and flooring him instantly.

"Go on, boy!" I screamed, but Duke recovered quickly, picking up and body slamming Scooby on several of the miniature office building. He stomped on Scooby Doo's chest with one of his clawed hind paws as well as trying to choke him by stepping throat area.

But yet again, he dropped his guard, thinking the battle one. Scooby might have been a coward, but he was a lot larger than Duke. He managed to reach up and sink his teeth into Duke's leg. He yelped in pain and jumped aside. Scooby stood up threw himself on top of Marmaduke, choking him with both of his foreleg paws. Changing tact, Duke kicked up off with his powerful back legs, and turned his attention to me and Shaggy. I stood there, rooted to the ground, as he charged towards me, crushing the tiny city as he ran. I shut my eyes, waiting for fifty-eight kilograms of Great Dane to tackle me to the ground. I couldn't outrun it, and I had nothing with which to fight back. I waited some more...still nothing. I opened my eyes cautiously...Scooby had caught the charging monster by the tail, and was holding on for dear life to stop him getting to me. The look in Scooby's eye was like nothing I'd ever seen. Not just desperation, genuine anger.

The two Pit Bulls were still at each other's throats, both limping badly their collars ripped clean off. As they paced around, locked onto each other by their jaws. Burch and Algeron both stood up on their hind legs, their fur now matted and ruffled from the mix of each others blood and saliva. They stumbled onto a minature building, and I saw it crumble to debris as Burch's weight came down on it. They also had locked their foreleg paws together in a test of strength, and I could tell that, Burch was really starting to struggle. He wasn't a young dog anymore.

I struggled with Shaggy's lifeless body, trying to drag him across the floor and back the way we came. Again, Duke managed to break free of Scooby and come tearing towards us, but Scooby was too quick. He stopped him a second time.

"Come on Shaggy!" I gasped, exhausted by his weight. "You gotta wake up!" But then I heard the clatter of footsteps behind me. I looked over my shoulder, relieved to see Fred and Velma.

"What's happened?" Velma exclaimed, bending down to Shaggy.

"He's fine, he's fine. Here, Fred. Help me with him."

"I got him." Fred bent down and lifted Shaggy clear of the ground. What's going on in there?"

"The monster...I saw him!"

"The four-armed thingy?" Velma asked hopefully.

"No, no, no, no! _The_ monster! The thing that killed Dawn. He was right here! He was right here! Scooby Doo saw him as well!"

"But what's that awful noise?" Fred asked, nodding back towards the studio.

"Duke turned on Scooby...I think he's possessed or something. And there's this other dog..." I nodded towards Shaggy, still slumped in Fred's arms. "Scooby's fine. Buch is with him. Let's just get Shaggy out of here."

"Right."

/

/

Fred carried Shaggy out into the parking lot and set him down on the ground carefully. He was gradually waking up- his eyelids flickered and he was trying to speak, fumbling his words incoherently.

"I'm going back in." I announced.

"What? You can't Daph, those dogs could tear you apart! Plus there's some freak dressed as a monster."

"It's in there." I replied simply. "The thing that killed Dawn. I'm going to get it."

"No, no!" Fred grabbed my arm, holding me tight. "Your not going on there alone! Not at all!" I tried to shake myself free, but he wouldn't let go.

"Just get off!" I screamed at him. Still, he wouldn't.

We all jumped as the main door of the studio suddenly crashed open. Scooby and Marmaduke tumbled out through the open door, still at each others throats. We watched in dismay as they both came to a stop in front of a parked white colored Limousine, rearing back up onto their hind legs while glaring at each other with nothing but hate. Goodness knows how or why, but Scooby had found a golf club, and had evidently been using it against Duke. Both Great Dane's began fighting over the it with their foreleg paws, and it immediately started to bend out of shape between them.

They fell back against the limo's hood, dropping the club, and began rolling back and forth all around on the hood of the Limousine as they wrestled, putting scratch marks and dents on the painted metal as well as breaking the front wind shield. They moved up onto the roof, the fight seeming to get more vicious by the minute. I knew Scooby- I knew he wouldn't be aiming to kill- as for Duke (or whatever force was controlling him), all bets were off. I watched in horror as they began leaving scratch marks and dents on the roof of the Limousine. I could see the metal roof starting to buckle under their combined body weight, but they didn't seem to care about how much damage they were causing. I swore softly under my breath- Mystery Inc prided itself on discreet, efficient mystery solving. Instead, the Milton Brothers would come back to thousands of dollars worth of damage.

I felt someone brush past me and looked around in alarm. We hadn't noticed it, but Shaggy had come round, and the first thing he saw was his best buddy getting attacked. He walked right up to the dogs before any of us could stop him, picked up the ruined golf club and smacked Duke around the face with it. Hard. The injured dog whimpered and tumbled backwards off the limo, landing on his feet but collapsing under his own weight. We rushed over. "Scooby Doo, are you ok?" I asked, scratching his ears and checking him for wounds.  
"Ryeah..." he replied, a trickle of blood coming from his eye. I kissed him on the top of his head, and hugged him close. "Thanks so much boy." I whispered. "You saved our lives back there."

"Ryeah." his eyes widened. "Rurch!" he broke free of my hug and went bounding back into the movie lot to help his friend, who was presumably still struggling with Algeron.

"Guys, look!" Shaggy cried. "Look!"

We looked down at Marmaduke. Something black was pouring out of his mouth, something that didn't quite seem to be liquid, but nor was it gas...it poured from his mouth and crawled across the floor past us.

"What are we looking at? I don't get it..." Velma said.

"You mean like...you can't see that?" Shaggy asked incredulously.

"I can." I spat, standing up. "Show yourself!" I demanded to the vapor, which was slowly crawling away from us. It stopped. Fred and Velma, I realised, still couldn't see it. But Shaggy could now. He knew it was there. We watched in horror as the vapor rose into the air, taking a shape...the boy. He was becoming the boy again. He stood in front of us, tears in his bright eyes.

"Oww..." he moaned, weeping as he clutched his jaw. "You hurt me Shaggy. You hurt me sho sho much..."

Shaggy stared at it in horror, half of him tempted to go and comfort it. I grabbed his arm.

"It's not a child, Shaggy! It's what killed my big sister! It's not real! Don't listen to it."

"But it is!" Shaggy whimpered. "I can see it."

"What's going on?" Fred screamed, still unable to see anything.

I grabbed the golf club from Shaggy's limp hand, and raised it above my head. I walked purposefully towards the creature, and went to swing the club...but now the little kid's eyes were welling up again. He gasped and shut them...no! It's not a kid! It's not a kid! Kill it! It's a monster! It-

I jerked back as he punched me on the nose. Hard. I felt blood flowing from my nostrils and went to swing the bat. But now the child was growing again, changing form, changing clothes. He grew into a handsome young man, about my age. "Do I make ya' breathless, sexy?" he drawled in a cockney British voice. "I bet I can!" he reached into my chest. _Into_ my chest. His hands simply passed right through me, and I felt them close over both my lungs. He squeezed. I felt the air burst out of them, back up through my windpipe. I collapsed to my knees, my throat and chest aching, tears streaming down my eyes. My nose bloody. "Let go..." I choked. My vision began clouding over, and my head span. Then he stopped. He pulled his hands from me and stepped back, gazing down at me in contempt. He was the older man again. I briefly wondered why he'd let me go, and then I remembered something Robson had said.

"You don't like attacking in front of other people, do you?" I whispered, my voice husky and dry. "Shaggy can see you now. I dunno why, but he can. You won't kill me...I don't know why, but I know you won't."

The old man grabbed my cheeks and forced my head up. I stared into his dead, lifeless eyes. There was no life in them, no nothing. "Leave me be...and I'll leave you." he whispered. Then he collapsed back into that strange liquid-like substance and wriggled away, too fast for me to follow. Fred came rushing over to me, lifting me gently to my feet. I collapsed, but he held me up, clutching me close to his chest. "What just happened, Daph..." he asked, his voice terrified and confused. Shaggy stood rooted to the spot, shaking his head slowly. Velma stood there saying nothing. Marmaduke lay on the floor. He'd be fine. I knew he wasn't dangerous anymore.

The studio door opened again. Scooby, and with him...we gasped. The four-legged monster. The reason we were actually here! Velma ripped off his mask, revealing none other than...one of the background actors! What was his problem? Too little play? Had he lost out on a big part? None of us knew, none of us cared. Fred retrained him and called the cops. Scooby sobbed and leapt into Shaggy's arms. "What's up boy?" he asked, stroking his sobbing friend.

"Rurch..." he whimpered.  
"His buddy!" I realized, running back into the studio with Shaggy and Scooby. We tore down the corridor, into the set containing the miniature New York. A scene of devastation met our eyes. Blood everywhere, the whole set demolished, and in the middle of it, Burch. He lay on his back, alive but badly injured. With great effort, me and Shaggy picked him up and carried him outside. Algeron followed us cheerfully. Like Marmaduke, he wasn't a dangerous dog. Not really. He'd been taken over by the thing, and it had let them both go now. We sat Burch down on the hood of a car, and decided to leave at once- without calling the Milton Brothers. We had to get him to an emergency night vet. Hopefully he'd be fine.

None of us spoke on the way to the vet. None of us spoke on the way back. Burch would have to stay in for a few days, but eventually he'd be fine. Give it a few weeks, and he'd be back to his usual, grumpy old self. It was only on the way back that Shaggy finally spoke.

"Daph's right, guys." he told Fred and Velma. "I know you two didn't see it, but it's real. The monster. I saw it."

"Ryeah!" Scooby agreed, having seen it as well.

Velma nodded. "Let's back back to HQ guys." she said, sounding exhausted. "There's something I want to show you."

 **Note: I'd like to give a special mention to my buddy Dark Fox Tailz for the dog-fight scenes. Hope your all enjoying the story so far. The Milton Brothers Studio is from "Scooby Doo Mystery Mayhem", a video game I used to love :D**


	6. Interval: About Us 1

_Don't ask us what we are. It's a silly question._

 _That's because we aren't anything much. Not anymore. We were born in the mind of another, many thousands of years ago. Our physical form, if ever we really had one, has all but gone. We exist, a mind without a proper body. A vast jumble of ideas, with only one idea- but our purpose can't be comprehended by the human mind, so what's the point in telling you it? The universe of our birth is entirely separate to this one. The only existence this universe has in our original one is in simple fiction. Just stories. During our travels, we discovered these stories, learned of this dimension. We knew we had to come. Why now, you ask? We were defeated in our universe. Our armies were destroyed, our powers depleted. Had we not fled that place to come here, it's likely we might have lost everything- we'd have lived on, but without any link to the physical boundaries of the world. That was not acceptable to us. We are all but finished, you see. Our physical existence is virtually nil, and our power to control others is lessened with every passing day._

 _So we whisper. We whisper in the minds of others, we control them, we influence them. Now and again, we muster the strength to manifest ourselves as a physical entity in this universe. We scare, we maim, we even kill. It's not just for fun though- every life we take, so another dying mind is added to us. More experience, more knowledge. We_ _ **are**_ _knowledge. But there's a problem- we are hunted. Yes. Perhaps it was a mistake to recruit the hot-dog lady. Her sister is after us. Not that she can kill us of course, no matter what she thinks. But we don't like anyone knowing about our presence here...it just isn't right. We know what your thinking? Why not just kill her? Well, the truth is that we're too weak. Killing the hot-dog girl took a lot of power. Our two subsequent visits to the physical plane have exhausted us, particularly the last. Controlling other animals, however simple-minded they may be, drains us significantly. So for now, we wait. If she finds out about us, so what? She could search in every street in Coolsville, and every house in every street, and every room in every house, and every corner in every room...and she'd never find us. We can't exist beyond Coolsville, but nor do we exist tangibly in it either. Except for when we choose to._

 _Yet the poor, deluded Daphne Blake expects to kill us! Ha! She cannot. She can't find us, she can't kill us. For now, we aren't strong enough to kill her. But we will be. Oh, we are true to our word though- if she stops searching for us, we'll just leave her well alone. But if she doesn't stop...if she carries on the search...she will be ours!_

 _So we implore you, Daphne Blake. Keep searching! Give us a reason to get you! Oh, the fun we could have..._


	7. Velma's Story

"So..." Velma began, sitting the group down back at Mystery Inc HQ "I've been doing some research, and-"

"Wait a sec!" I interjected "Research about the thing? Whatever it is?"

"Right."

"But I thought you didn't believe in it?"

Velma shrugged. "I didn't. Not at first. No offence Daph, but I thought the whole thing was the desperate fantasy of a grieving individual. I didn't believe it was real for a single moment. Now I'm certain of it."

I gaped at her, struggling for words. "And you were gonna tell us when, precisely?"

Velma hung her head. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I guess I was hoping I'd never have to. That we'd never see it again...but look how that's turned out." she reached into her backpack and pulled out her laptop, flicking the screen up. "But back when you saw it at the museum, I started looking online. As you can imagine, I wasn't sure where to start. I ended up searching the news websites for brutal murders in the Coolsville area-"

"Wow, you'll be on a watchlist or two." Shaggy exclaimed.

Velma ignored him. "It's staggering. There's so many reports, you wouldn't believe. Way more than average. But that doesn't really prove much does it? So I narrowed it down a little- unsolved brutal murders. It came up with loads again. So I started feeling uneasy at that stage, but even then, I couldn't bring myself to believe you Daph...I thought it more likely that it was to do with gangs...or even a serial killer. As horrible as some of these killing were, it just wasn't enough proof."

"What convinced you?" I asked quietly, my mouth dry.

"This." Velma replied, and turned the laptop around, showing us a chart she'd made. We studied it, confused.

"I didn't see it for ages." she said. "It was staring me in the face, but I didn't see it."

"See what?" asked Fred, his features screwed up in confusion.

"The pattern. Look here." she pointed to a date on the graph. "3rd June, 1984. A house fire started by a faulty cooker on the upper-east side. Four people dead. 8th of June, 1984. A man is found dead with his heart removed, and half eaten. Killer never found. Fast forward a few years- An explosion at the steel mill, February 17th, 1991. On February 22nd of 1991, a woman was found dead, chopped into pieces. Killer never found. Then of course...well, let's skip all the other cases and come to this. October of last year...remember that bus crash? Eight people killed and several badly injured?"

"Yeah." I said solemnly. "Happened a few days before Dawn was killed."

Velma nodded. "Exactly. Five days, to be precise."

"Yeah...so er..." Me, Shaggy and Fred exchanged a confused glance.

"You got it, Daph. You can see it, but you can't see it! I couldn't at first. But eventually I saw the pattern- these unsolved, barbaric murders...they happen five days after a large, tragic incident. _Always_."

It was as if the temperature in the room had been knocked down by several degrees. I stared at Velma, amazed that she'd spotted it. Even by her standards, that was smart.

"How many examples of that have you got?" Fred asked, looking as scared as ever I'd seen him.

"Dozens." Velma replied. "And it's not the work of some deranged person. This pattern, it stretches way back. My earliest example is in the 1800's. Coolsville was just a poor mining town back then. In 1865, a mine collapsed killing a load of workers. Five days afterwards, a man was found with a fist-shaped hole right through his body. This has been going on for generations, and nobody's noticed."

"Could it be...copycats or something?" Fred suggested. "The habit gets passed down in a family through the generations, and-"

"Yes, yes." Velma interrupted. "Except we know it isn't. At any rate, they'd have been caught by now. That's always been the notable link, besides the violent nature of these killings. Nobody is ever caught! Five days after something really bad happens, someone is savagely killed, and nobody is caught."

"But we saw him last night." I said. "Nothing seriously bad has happened in Coolsville recently."

"Maybe so." Velma replied. "And maybe that's why it didn't kill any of us. Maybe it couldn't. I mean, why did it let you go, Daph? Seriously? This thing can do horrific things, and it clearly enjoys doing them. Why did he let you live tonight?"

"Coz it doesn't like killing when other people are watching. That's what I was told."

Velma shook her head. "I think that's wrong. It's a lie, it probably comes from the creature itself. It's the perfect way to terrify people isn't it? Pretending that it will come and find you when your alone, and slaughter you. I don't think it's true. It's almost like serious incidents power it up or something. They make it strong enough to take a life."

"That doesn't make sense." Shaggy said quietly. He seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Doesn't it?" Velma asked. "From what you two have said, it seems to be some sort of phantom-like thing. I know it's not a ghost, but just go with me for now. Think about massive incidents. A whole town in shock and sadness. Maybe...maybe that level of emotion, from that many people acts as a sort of food. It allows it to become "real". It gives it a physical existence for a short time. And in that time, it uses it's physical existence to commit these murders."

"It makes sense." I said. "It's not that it didn't kill me tonight. It's that it _couldn't_ kill me tonight. It can possess, and injure and talk and everything. But it can't actually kill. Unless something tragic has happened."

"Right. Of course, I might be totally wrong. But it does seem to fit, doesn't it." Velma snapped her laptop shut and smiled sadly. "Of course, none of that tells us how to stop it."

"No, but I think I know someone who can help." I stood up, grabbing a jacket. "We'll get a couple of hours sleep, and then we're going out."

"Oh? Where to?" Velma asked.  
"I need another chat with Mr. Robson." I replied. "Let's leave at nine, we can make the morning visiting hours."


	8. The Nightmare

Lucid dreaming. That's the word for it- when you know you are dreaming. In the dream, I was sitting in my old bedroom, back at my parents' house. All my old boy-band posters adorned the walls, posters that I'd thrown away many years ago. I tried to wake myself up. I knew that I was actually in Mystery Inc HQ, and I knew that I had to get up soon. We were going to see Robson again, and I needed to wake up...but I couldn't.

Sighing, I stood up, amazed at how realistic it all was. I could smell the perfume and fragrance that always adorned my room, I could feel the cool temperature, sense the refreshing breeze wafting in through the open window. Bright, glorious sunshine shone through it, warming my skin. I'd never known a dream like it. All these senses, all these details...and yet I knew it wasn't real. I shut my eyes and concentrated hard- I could feel myself back in bed, lying atop the covers. That's where I really was. And if I opened my eyes again, that's where I'd be...right?

Wrong. I was still in my old room. This wasn't right...why was I dreaming like this? I never dreamed in this much detail. Nobody did, surely? I opened my bedroom door, and walked out into the hallway.

"Daph" a familiar voice called out. I froze. That voice had come from a room at the end of the hallway, a room that I hadn't entered in a long time.

"Baby sis?" she called out. "I ain't waiting for you honey. Come say hello."

My heart thumping in my chest, I walked down the hallway and stood outside the room, my breath coming in desperate gasps. The door was ajar. Shaking violently, I pushed it open and walked in. The room was cold and musty, decorated somewhat like my own, minus the child's posters on the walls. And there she was. Sitting on the bed in her party clothes, smiling faintly at me. Her beautiful eyes intact, and back in place. She patted the bed next to her, inviting me to sit down.

"Hey Daphne." Dawn said warmly, her sparkling eyes fixed on me. "Sit down babe."

"Dawn..." I gasped, tears welling up in my eyes. "I..."

Dawn smiled "I know Daph, I know. It's only a dream, right? But obviously I'm not around anymore, am I? It's this or nothing, hon."

I moved over to the bed and sat down weakly, allowing Dawn to take my hand. "I've missed you." I said thickly, my eyes stinging with tears. "I know this isn't real, but...is it you? Are you in my dream?"

"Silly question, babe." she replied. "What's real? Coolsville? Give me a break! We can see everything, you know. Everything. Coolsville, your world, it's nothing. A tiny little pocket of wonderful silliness, a speck of dust at the bottom of a coal mine." Dawn put her arm around me, and hugged me tightly. I broke down into sobs, half anguished and half in the grip of sheer joy. Whether this was a crazy dream bought on my exhaustion or...something else, I didn't know. It didn't matter right now. She was here. Dawn was with me!

"There, there." she said after a few minutes, patting my head like she always did when we were little. "I know it's been hard. I'm sorry for leaving you all. I didn't have a choice though."

I regained my composure and sat up. "I've seen it, Dawn. The thing that killed you. I've seen it."

"I know." she replied, sounding only faintly interested. "I know what you saw. I was there too."

I wiped tears from my eyes, gulping. "It's a monster, Dawn. It's evil...I've been trying to find it. Trying to destroy it."

Dawn only chuckled. "You can't kill us, Daph. You really can't."

I shook my head. "What do you mean "us", exactly?" I whispered.

"The "monster" as you call it," Dawn replied, "Isn't really evil. It just...it has a different way of thinking, that's all. And you haven't "seen it" at all. What you see is a mere extension of it. A fingertip, dipping into our silly little pocket of reality when it chooses. It's got a name, you know."

I listened with growing unease "And what's that?"

"The Whispering." Dawn replied. "On account of it's ability to control. It whispers in people's minds, making them do things, see things. Get it?"

"Yeah," I replied, "But Dawn...you keep calling it "us?" Tell me."

"Because I'm a part of it now. We all are, everyone it's taken over the generations. If you stay with me, you can be part of it as well."

I pulled my hand away and stood up. "I don't want to be Dawn...I don't want to die."

She laughed. "You don't have to settle for life, Daph. Danger prone Daphne, the damsel in distress...always getting captured, always being rescued. But if you'll just come with me, you'll be able to see everything. Just take my hand, little sis. Don't fear the Whispering. _Be_ the Whispering. Come with us! Be brave! Accept the physical pain of death, and be rewarded with immortality. Be forever!"

I nodded sadly, pacing the little room. "Are you happy, Dawn? Wherever you are now? _Whatever_ you are now? Are you happy?"

"I am." she replied, "And to have you here as well...oh what we'd do! The places we'd go, and dimensions we'd transcend! Join me!"

I smiled faintly, my heart breaking. "You remember when we were younger, Dawn? That time I nearly got hit by a car when I was nine? You pushed me out of the way. It could easily have hit you instead, but you didn't care. Remember that?"

"Of course!"

"And a few years back. That scumbag boyfriend I had, Edgar Pivaro. He beat me, he threatened to kill me. It wasn't Freddie who scared him off, or who put him in hospital. It wasn't even daddy. It was you!"

Dawn giggled. "He still limps you know!"

I laughed aloud, tears of anger leaking from my eyes. "Yeah. The point is, you always cared for me Dawn. You cared for my safety, you cared for my life. You wanted to protect me. My beautiful, caring big sister. Keeping me safe and well, right to the end."

I paused, and took a deep breath, shaking with anger and misery.

"And that's why I know one thing. You _are not_ my sister!" I bellowed, grabbing the mirror from the bedside table, smashing it into the Whispering's face. Glass exploded everywhere, and the creature groaned- a deep, booming voice swore in pain, and my sister's beautiful features slipped away, leaving...nothing. A human-shaped hole, leading into...nothing. Just darkness. A void, filled with hateful thoughts, crippling fear and murderous rage. The heart of the Whispering. Grabbing a jagged piece of glass, I thrust it into the chasm, causing the voice to scream in agony. Such a loud scream...my ears were splitting, my head exploding. My body shaking...no. My body being shaken. By someone else. "Daph..." cried Freddie's voice from miles away. "Daphne!"

/

/

I jumped awake. I was in Mystery Inc HQ, lying on my bed in a pool of cold sweat. Fred was leaning over me, his hands on my shoulders. He was pale. I didn't bother trying to explain. I leapt into his arms and sobbed relentlessly. It was a long time before I stopped.

 **Note: Sorry for the delay in writing this, been very busy. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter.**


	9. Boccino Heights

**Clifford Burns:**

"So, that's two spaghetti and meatballs, a pepperoni pizza and a house salad. Any more drinks to go with that?"

"That's it." the old git murmured. "Can you wipe our table though? It's dirty."

Absolute rubbish. It was as clean as anything. But I painted on a smile. "Certainly sir. I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah, it's not good enough." he spat. "I sure hope the food makes up for it." His equally nasty family nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure it will!" I replied brightly, knowing full well that this idiot would complain, no matter how good the food was. And he wouldn't leave a tip. I walked away, my false smile vanishing the second my back was turned. I crossed the large dining hall, and tapped my girlfriend on the back. She wheeled around, startled. "Can you wipe down table eighteen, babe?" I said slowly and clearly "The old prat says it's dirty."

Lauren watched the movement of my lips carefully, and then nodded, an affronted look on her face. "I cleaned it just now..." she replied, slowly and loudly.

I nodded. "Yeah, I know that, and you know that. But he's complaining."

Lauren scoffed, and bustled past me. I was a little worried- she was ninety-five percent deaf, and if anyone was going to give her a hard time over it, it was that grumpy old moron sitting at table eighteen, with his equally grotty little family. I briefly wondered whether I should follow her, but I decided not to. It was the middle of dinner service.

For the next half-hour, I rushed back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, bringing out orders, taking several back (naturally, including number eighteen's, who was now talking to the shift manager, insisting on a refund), and taking payments from the customers. Finally, I was allowed to take a break. I dragged myself up to the staff room, only to find Lauren sitting on one of the sofa's, her eyes red. She'd been crying.

"Lauren!" I gasped, sitting down next to her, pulling her into a tight hug. I waited for her to look at me before I spoke. "What's wrong?" As if I didn't know.

"Eighteen!" she replied sadly, her voice bitter.

I nodded, undiluted rage building up inside me. "What did he say?"

Lauren shook her head. "Doesn't matter."

"It does to me." I hissed. I'd known Lauren for seven years, and we'd been a couple for four of them. We'd both studied chemistry at the same college, and we'd hit it off the moment we met. She was wickedly intelligent, and had regularly put me to shame during out exams. We were an odd couple. I was tall, slightly on the overweight side, and already losing my hair at the temples. She, on the other hand, was gorgeous. Fiery red hair, a thin and beautiful face, and a dazzling smile that made it impossible for anyone to dislike her. She was by far shorter than me, and my buddies often remarked that I'd struck very lucky in getting such a beautiful girl. Hot girls didn't usually go for ugly, awkward guys like me, they would remark. I couldn't help but agree. Even on a deeper level, we didn't seem an obvious match. I deplored exercise, she ran marathons. I liked movies, she liked reading. She couldn't hear a thing, and I didn't know any sign language at all. But we managed. She was a good lip-reader, and I found it entirely easy to understand her speech, which was distorted, muffled, and often hard for other people to understand.

It was only after we'd graduated (me scraping a pass, her with a first class degree) that we simultaneously realized something- chemistry was _dreadful_. What a horrible, boring and exhausting subject it was. What on Earth had possessed us to study it? Our lecturer had wanted us to go into laboratory work of course, especially Lauren. We'd said no, and that was how we found ourselves, aged twenty-six and twenty-eight (she sometimes called me her toyboy, despite only two years between us) working in Boccino Heights, a smart Italian restaurant in the town. We were happy there, me as a waiter, and Lauren as a barmaid (and cleaner, for extra cash). Life was great. Everyone wanted to hire a pair of graduates such as us, and we had our own little house and everything now. Next month, we were jetting off to Hawaii for a break, and it was there that I planned to get down on one knee and propose to her. I just knew she'd say yes.

Her deafness wasn't a sensitive subject at all. Almost everybody treated her exactly like they'd treat anyone else, and that was just the way she liked it. Almost everybody. But _not_ everybody. _Not_ the old man at table eighteen.

I stood up, ensuring that I continued to face Lauren so that she could watch my lips. "I'm going to see Paul." I said. "I'm not having this."

Lauren shrugged. "I don't want a fuss over it."

"There won't be." I exclaimed. "Paul will sort it out." Paul was the owner of Boccino Heights, and without doubt the best boss I'd ever had. He cared for his staff, and under no circumstances did he allow them to be abused or insulted. He worked us extremely hard, yet we didn't mind. He paid us fairly, and in the rare event of a problem, his first thought was to side with us over the customers. The customers knew that as well, and most of them respected him all the more for it. Most customers are thoroughly decent people after all, and wouldn't even think of being cruel to a waiter or a barmaid. But now and again, it would happen, and when it did, Paul would remove that customer without a second thought. We had enough footfall without grovelling to the dregs of society.

So I left the staff room, and headed down to the kitchen, where he would probably be washing the dishes. That was another reason I liked him- he'd get stuck in along with his staff, do whatever job needed to be done- including the toilets. I walked downstairs, still seething with rage. _Seething_. Maybe I shouldn't go to Paul? Maybe I ought to go and talk to table eighteen myself? Maybe I should do a little more than talk? Maybe I should

 _-murder them!-_

I stopped in my tracks, my heart thumping. The thought came to me clear as day, and for a moment I was shocked. Crikey...for a split second there, I was totally ready to do exactly that. To go down there, grab a wine bottle and bring it crashing down on the scumbag's head. He deserved it! Being cruel to my Lauren! How dare he! Could I kill him for it? Sure I could. What's stopping me? He was old, and I was young. I could go in there and do it right now!

But should I? No! Of course not! What was I thinking? I needed to go and see Paul, and get him to sort it out. He'd have them out at once and banned for life...but so what? That's not a proportionate punishment for what they did! I needed to punish them

 _-You need to murder them, Clifford!-_

There it was again! No! No! What was I thinking...I'm not a killer! I'm going to see Paul

 _-And then you need to finish them all off!-_

I was going to tell Paul, and I was going to let him sort it out...

I stumbled into the kitchen, my palms sweating. Paul looked up from the dishes. "Blimey Cliff...you look like you've seen a ghost. What's the matter?"

"Number eighteen..." I slurred, struggling to stand upright, beads of sweat pouring down my face. "They upset Laura. Punish them!"

Paul looked taken aback. "I've been hearing about them all night, man. I'll go have a word. But you need to sit down, you look awful."

I stumbled forwards and gripped the front of his apron. "You need...more than a word...punish them for it! You need to...they have to pay

 _-Well said, Clifford! Well said!-_

they have to suffer!"

But now Paul was alarmed. "Right, you need to sit down straight away. Oi, Stuart!" he called one of the chefs over. "Sit him down and give him a drink of water. I dunno what's wrong with him, but I think he needs medical attention."

He wasn't going to help me...

/

/

 **Lauren Howle**

I mopped my eyes once more, but already I felt better. The guy at table eighteen was nothing but a stupid ignorant berk, and I had better things to do than worry about it. I just hoped Cliff and Paul wouldn't do anything rash...

I strolled into the locker room and grabbed my stuff. I still had fifteen minutes' break left, and I wanted some gourmet marshmallows from the grocery store opposite. I had two days off after tonight was over, and what better way to celebrate? I felt a gust of air behind me, which told me that the door had opened and somebody had come in. I turned around. Cindy, of course. Slacking again. "Hey," I said. "Smoke break?"

I watched the movements of her mouth carefully...what was she saying? "Yes, I've not bad one four hours." I took a moment to think about the context..."Yes, I've not had one for hours." That was what she said.

I chuckled. "I'm going to the grocery store." I said. "Want anything?"

"Take a bit slower money..." I paused for a nanosecond, thinking it through. Ah, yes. "Talk a bit slower, honey." That was it.

I repeated myself in a voice I presumed was clearer. Understanding, Cindy shook her head and declined. "Ok, see you." I said brightly, leaving the locker room and heading out through the staff exit. I started walking to the grocery store. Perhaps I could have a few marshmallows straight away? I had four hours until my shift ended, and a bit of sugar would wake me up...

Naturally, I didn't hear the explosion. But I felt it. A blast of scorching air hit me from behind, and the ground underneath my feet shuddered violently. A surge of power threw me forwards, and I landed painfully on the concrete, several feet from where I'd been standing. I stood up, dizzy and bruised. The door to the staff exit was gone. Smoke billowed out of the restaurant and the orange glow emitting from inside told me it was on fire. I gasped. Then I ran, straight back into the burning mess. Some people might think that's a crazy decision to make, but for me there _was_ no decision. Cliff was still inside. I had to get to him! I had to help him!The inside of the shattered restaurant was an inferno, baking hot and airless. I called out, but whether or not anyone replied, I had no way of knowing. I needed to find Cliff...I needed to...I couldn't live without him! We were going to Hawaii next month! I just needed to find him! Where was he? Where?

Finally, I managed to fight through the smoke, finding my way into the dining area. What was left of it. Tables were upended, debris over the floor, plates and glasses smashed. Food lay everywhere, along with the bodies of the customers. I sank to my knees, unable to take it in. As I glanced helplessly round the room, I noticed the man from table eighteen. He was lying on his side, and his hands had clenched firmly together in death. He clutched a spoon...he'd been eating his dessert. But where was Cliff? Where? "Cliff!" I screamed, "I'm in the dining room!" I hoped he had heard, hoped he'd come rushing in. I couldn't get back out without help, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I needed to find him...

I froze. Someone was standing in the midst of the wreckage. I looked up, not believing my eyes. A boy. A small boy in nineteenth century clothing. He grinned at me, not so much as a scratch or a burn mark on him...

It was too much. I collapsed onto my back and lay amid the chaos. I should have been scared, but I wasn't. I knew that Cliff would find me and that we'd both get out.

But it didn't happen that way. I woke up in hospital two days later, and what they told me wasn't possible...not only was Cliff dead, but (and this is the part I simply refused to believe), all the evidence from the site suggested that he was the one who had thrown the gas canister from the cellar onto the kitchen grill, destroying the restaurant and killing forty-one people inside.


	10. Cuts

**Daphne**

We were in Robson's suite when we heard the news. An explosion in a restaurant in the city...scores of people dead, dozens injured. Naturally, the whole city was in shock. Angry, scared and devastated by the tragedy, not least because it seems to have been deliberate. Some guy who worked there had set the kitchen ablaze, and caused the whole place to go up in smoke. We shut the television off, none of us speaking for a moment. Words couldn't express the horror of what had happened, nor the horror of what we _knew_ would happen now.

"It's coming." Fred whispered, his voice shaky. "Five days, then it happens again. Five days, and then the Whispering slaughters someone."

Robson looked at us uncertainly. "You don't know that, folks. Not for definite."

"But we do." Velma said bluntly. "We _do_ know, Mr. Robson. Which is why we need your help."

He stood up abruptly, and started pacing, his hands clenched. "But what do you expect me to do?" he half-shouted, his face contorted with anger and fear. "What can any of us do about it?"

Velma shook her head. "I don't know...but we have to do something. Listen sir-"

"No, no, my dear. You listen. I'm just as angry with this thing as you folk are. It terrorized me for years on end, it made me a nervous wreck. It ruined my life, and I shall never forget how scared I was. I want it dead as much as you. But really- there is nothing you can do. From what Daphne describes, what we see is the tip of the iceberg. It doesn't sound like it can be killed."

"Remember what I asked you last time, Mr. Robson?" I asked.

"No, dear. I don't. My memory isn't good any more, as I believe you have been told."

"I'm sorry. But I asked you if you'd ever tried?"

Robson sighed deeply, and sat back down on the sofa heavily. "No." he answered finally. "No, I didn't. But-"

"No "but", sir." Fred butted in. "We have to do something about it now. You should have seen Daphne when she woke up. She was scared beyond belief. It can't keep getting away with what it does, Mr. Robson. Surely you agree?"

Robson nodded slowly, and shrugged. "But what do you expect from me? I can't help. From what you've said, most of what I know about it is totally wrong..."

"Yeah," I said, "But during all those years it chased you, was there anything odd? Anything that you remember not making sense at the time?"

"Aside from being chased down by a monster, you mean?"

"Fair enough." I smiled faintly. "But did it ever like...I dunno, do anything or say anything that just seemed weird? Anything that could help us now? Think back, Mr. Robson."

He chuckled. "You will find, Miss Blake, that my long term memory is as sharp as ever. It's just the short term I struggle with...I mean, I have to be honest. It's a silly question. It's very existence is "weird." I don't think any of it's actions can be judged as normal, do you? But I do understand, in essence, what you are asking me."

"What, man?" Shaggy piped up. He'd been very quiet recently, overwhelmed by what was happening. It pained me to see him like this, and I made a mental note to have a chat with him about it all at some point.  
"Well, Daphne...remember I said how it often injured me? There is one thing that seems...strange. I didn't think much of it at the time, but maybe it will help?"

I nodded gently, gripping his frail hands in my own. "Go on." I said.

He nodded, and pushed me away. He lifted his shirt up to the chest, revealing a set of jagged scars running along his torso.

"Zoinks!" Shaggy exclaimed. "They look awful man!"

"They did hurt." Robson said candidly. "Very much so. But look closely."

We did. I squinted, looking at the tiny, zig-zagging lines running along the old man's body. They looked like...no, they couldn't be? But they looked like...

"Are those _words_?" I gasped.

"They are. He carved them into me with his bare hands."

"H...how?" I whispered, gazing at the tiny letters. "And what to they say? I can't make them out."

"No, indeed not." Robson said. "I did have some enhanced photos of them, but I misplaced those many years ago. Have any of you got one of those ridiculous phones? I understand they have cameras that zoom in."

"Sure, sure." I took mine out of my pocket, and zoomed right in on the camera. "Can you remember what they say at all?"

"No." he replied sadly. "Not remotely. I'm afraid you'll have to forgive my memory, folks. It's unlikely to improve. Funny though, I do remember the day he did it to me. I remember that all too well. Usually, he enjoyed hurting me, you see. But that day, he was...I dunno, it's almost like he was scared himself. Like he didn't really want to do it."

"Hmm." I took a snap of the words. Up close, there were about fifty of them. No- no, Robson was mistaken- it wasn't a bunch of random words at all. It was the same word. Over and over again. I enhanced the picture even further. "I can almost make them out!" I announced.

"What do they say?" everyone chanted in unison, including Robson.

"There's only one word here, guys. It's the same word!"

"What is it?" Everyone asked in unison, including Robson himself.

"Howle."

/

We left shortly after that. Velma wanted to get back to HQ and research anything and everything relating to "Howle", and why the Whispering had taken it upon itself to carve them into one of it's victims all those years ago. If we were lucky, it would have some importance. If we were extremely lucky, it might even help us to stop the impending murder, the one we felt sure was going to happen.

Mr. Robson had been quite happy to see us go. He saw us out, promising to call if anything else came up. I thanked him for helping us, promising that I'd come and visit him again soon.

I don't think he was too pleased about that.

 **Note: Just to clarify, the previous chapter (Boccino Heights) takes place around about the same time as the gang are solving the mystery in the Milton Brothers' studio (chapter 5). But it's only at this point that they hear about what happened, hence that chapter comes later in the story.**

 **I'll update again soon. Probably. Thanks to everyone who's following the story, and by all means leave a review (even if you hate it, I can take criticism :D)**


	11. Day One

"Right, gang. Let's run through the situation." Fred said importantly, as we all sat in the lounge back at HQ. "Everyone listening?"

"Yeah." we all grunted.

"Good. Here's where we stand right now...Velma, take it away."

Velma stood up and switched places with Fred, who sat down with a thump next to me.

"Ok." Velma said, clearing her throat. "Let's start with the most obvious problem- we're on borrowed time. If what we think is true, we have five days, including today, until the Whispering kills someone else. We only have a vague idea of what it is, and we have no idea at all how to find it, let alone stop it. It's bad, team. We've got nothing, apart from one word.

"Rowle!" Scooby barked.

"Howle, yes. Could mean nothing. But for some reason, it was engraved onto Robson dozens of years ago. We don't know why. It could turn out to be utterly irrelevant, but right now we can't leave a single stone unturned. So...anyone have anything to add?"

"Yeah." I nodded, "this is all very well and good, but do you know what I think?"

"Go on."

"I think we're all in danger. Very great danger. I am for sure. It's got an opportunity to kill again, and you realize it might very well decide to get rid of me. Or any of us? It's like Robson told me- people who know about it often end up dying. It's got a chance to get us now."

Nobody said anything.

"So," I continued, "I think we need to prepare for failure. If, as seems likely, we can't do anything to stop it killing in five days, we need to have a plan to keep ourselves safe it it comes to that. We could even try to catch it."

"Like, how?" Shaggy interrupted, looking at me incredulously.

I shrugged. "I don't know. We'll cross that bridge later, I guess."

Velma nodded. "I agree. For now, we research. We're going to the library. You three are going to go through all the murders, all the details. We need to see if there's anything I missed. Look for locations, see if there's a pattern. Any link between the victims, including Dawn. Anything at all that might give us something."

"What about you?" I asked.

"Howle." she replied simply. "It's the only solid clue we have so far. I'm gonna see if I can find out what it means. Now let's go."

Six hours later, we still had nothing.

We sat on a desk in the sweltering heat of the library, irritable, tired and frustrated. There just wasn't anything! Not a single scrap of information which yielded any clue. No connections in location, age of the victims, nothing. Coolsville was a big place. Six million citizens at last count. Six million potential victims. I checked my watch. Eight in the evening. Four days until someone died. Four days, and we hadn't a clue what to do.

"Guys." Shaggy muttered, tears of hunger in his eyes. "Do any of you...do any of you think we ought to go to the cops? There's just a tiny chance they'll believe us? I think a tiny chance is the best we've got now. They could organize something..."

I shook my head. "No. They'd never believe us."

"You know, it's not such a bad idea, maybe." Fred said softly. "We're Mystery Inc, remember! We do have a good track record when it comes to stuff like this...maybe we could prove it to them, show them Velma's findings. It's better than wasting our time in here."

Velma was on my side. "I don't think it would do any good. Look at it this way- if we go to the cops, telling them someone's going to be brutally killed in five days, who will be the prime suspects when it happens? Nobody will be caught, you all know that. We'd be in jail by nightfall."

"She's right." I said. "Look, today's a write off. Fair enough. But we've still got time. There's definetley nothing anyone wants to share today?"

The boys shook their head. Velma, however, looked at me uncertainly.

"Something to say Velma?"

"Yeah, but don't get excited. I don't think it means much. But I looked up the word "Howle", and the first result was an village in Shropshire, England. At first I thought nothing of it, but didn't you tell me that it speaks with a British accent, Daph?"

"It does!" I said, my fatigue vanishing momentarily. "Yeah! Maybe there's a connection there."

"I'm not so sure, guys." Shaggy said. "It spoke in a London accent. Ain't Shropshire another part of England? They'd talk different to the way it talks."

I stared at him. "Since when are you so good at geography?"

"Well." he smirked. "Hidden skills, Daph. But, like, it's all England, ain't it? There still might be a connection there."

"Ok," shrugged Velma. "Worth thinking about. Obviously we can't get there and back in four days, but if...well, if we can't save this victim, it might be worth making the journey? I can't see how it will help us stop it, but like I said- no lead is worth ignoring."

"Yeah." I said distantly. "All right gang, this hasn't been a totally wasted day I guess..."

"I suppose not." Fred replied. "Shall we call it a night?"

We did. We grabbed a pizza on the way home, and sat in the lounge, watching the news. I felt down. We still had nothing of much value. Just a town, thousands of miles away, a town which in all likelihood had no connection to the Whispering whatsoever. But then why had it engraved the name of that town on Robson? Why?

I shifted my attention back to the news- the explosion at that restaurant in town, Boccino Heights. It was grim. A lot of people had died, and a lot more were injured.

"Look at him!" Fred grunted as they brought up a picture of the man suspected of causing the explosion. "Looks like a right freak, doesn't he? Evil prat."

The picture faded, and the newsreader came back on.

 _"Police are still questioning what could have possibly motivated Clifford Burns to destroy his place of work, killing himself and so many of his colleagues last night. Among those worst injured was his long-term partner, barmaid Lauren Howle of whom Burns had shared a life with. Miss Howle is currently described as being in a stable condition, but several people trapped on the upper floors at the time of the explosion are thought to have sustained life-threatening injuries. The town center remains-"_

I dropped my pizza, my heartbeat increasing rapidly. I exchanged a glance at Velma, who also looked excited.

"Howle?" I asked incredulously.

"Did she say Howle? Lauren Howle?"

"She did!" I exclaimed, pulling out my phone and looking up the story. Come on, come on! Stupid internet!"

"It's all right, I got it!" Fred said, half-shouting, looking at his phone. "It is! H-O-W-L-E! Woah..."

"All right, all right." Velma interrupted. "Let's bear in mind that this could be a coincidence. It's not a common name, but it doesn't necessarily mean..."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, throwing my slice of pizza to Scooby, who devoured it in two huge gulps. "But it's like you said- we've got to follow every lead we get, right. Let's go see this woman."

/

We left at six in the morning, heading out to the Schofield Medical Center. I telephoned ahead, and Lauren had agreed to meet us. Upon arrival in the dank, airless hospital ward, we were met by a small, dark-haired woman, who identified herself as the head nurse.

"All right," she said sternly. "I don't quite know why you kids want to see Miss. Howle, but she's agreed to have you in. I warn you- she's only in the last two hours woken up, and as you might imagine, she's devastated. Her boyfriend did it...that's what they are saying, anyway. She's in denial, and I won't have you upsetting any patient of mine."

"We won't." Fred assured her.

"Good." The nurse nodded briskly. "Also, she's deaf. She's a very good lip-reader, but she can't talk all that well."

"Ok." said Velma. "We'll make it work. May we go and see her?"

"Yeah, go on." the nurse replied. "Down the corridor, fourth on the left." she pointed past the reception desk and down a narrow hallway. "Visiting time finishes in one hour."

We walked briskly down the corridor, and suddenly I felt nervous- what were we going to say to this girl? What were we going to tell her? "Hey Lauren, your last name was carved onto this old guy years before you were born. Any idea why?" she'd have us escorted out by security. We stood outside her door.

"No point knocking if she's deaf, is there?" Fred said awkwardly. "Can we just go in?"

I scoffed, and pushed him aside. I gently opened the door and stuck my head in. The room was surprisingly pleasant, in contrast to the main ward. It was airy, the window was open, and a vase of pink flowers sat on a table next to the bed. My gaze fell onto Lauren herself. I blinked. Wow. She was older than me, but I was shocked at how alike we looked. Our hair matched. Our faces were similar. Well, mine was slightly wider, but aside from that...wow.

She glanced at me with a pair of bright blue eyes, and nodded. She didn't smile. Well, I couldn't blame her, not after everything she'd been through. But from the way she was looking at me, I knew she was thinking the same - we were very alike.

"Hey, I'm Daphne from Mystery Inc." I said, ensuring I spoke clearly. I noticed her watching my mouth very closely, squinting to see the movement of my lips. "Can we come in?"

She nodded. As we walked in, I found myself wishing we hadn't all come- there were four of us crowding round her, and I could tell she was uncomfortable. "Hey..." I began uncertainly. "I'm so sorry about what happened."

She nodded again. "What do you want?" she asked. Her voice was very muffled, and her words slurred. But I understood.

"Well, er...um..." I paused. What _did_ we want from her? Really? Why were we here? How could we even begin to tell her our story?

Finally, Velma spoke. "I'm sorry to intrude on you like this...but we've got something we want to discuss...can you understand what I'm saying? Every word?"

She shook her head. "Easier if you write it down." she said, pointing to a small chest of drawers by her bed.

Velma looked at me uncertainly. "Sorry, Lauren. I didn't understand you."

"She said write it down." I repeated, puzzled. Sure, her speech was slurred, but it wasn't _that_ hard to understand. For somebody who had little understanding of how words should sound, and had no idea how her own voice sounded, it was rather good.

"Ok." Velma took out her own pen and pad (she never left home without it) and for the next four minutes, scribbled down the whole sordid tale of how we came to be here. She handed it to Lauren, who read it, her beautiful eyes narrowing. She finished, and stared at us incredulously.

"My name?" she asked. "Engraved on someone's body?"

I shrugged. "I know it's hard to believe, but yeah...and then. Well, did you read about the creature? The Whispering? Look, I know we must seem crazy, but-"

Lauren held her hand up, silencing me.

"Something happened that night." she told us. "If it hadn't, I'd have thought you were all freaks...but I saw something."

I looked at her, and she looked at me. As our eyes met, I knew. I don't know how, but I knew.

"You saw him, didn't you?" I whispered, dropping my gaze. "The little boy."

Lauren shrugged. I looked directly at her, and spoke again. "You saw the little boy."

Understanding, she nodded. "Yeah. Also- Cliff wasn't a killer. I don't care what they say. He _didn't_ do it. I know that."

She began to cry. Without thinking, I reached over and hugged her tightly. I thought she'd push me away, but she didn't. My blood had run cold. I glanced at Velma. "So the Whispering was there that night...Velma, might...well, might it have somehow possessed her boyfriend?"

Velma just shook her head. "I dunno, Daph. But if so, then it's worse than I thought. It means the Whispering doesn't just wait for these things to happen, and take the opportunity to kill someone. That's what I thought. But if you are right, it means that it can _cause_ them to happen. Oh Daph...we're out of our depth babe. We're really, truly out of our depth. What are we going to do?"

I shrugged, holding onto the weeping girl tightly. I honestly didn't know.


	12. Day Two

Eventually, Lauren calmed down. I couldn't comprehend how she must be feeling. Oh, I knew what it was like to lose someone of course, but in the eyes of the world, Clifford Burns had blown up the restaurant. She had to live with that. Only we knew the truth. Well, suspected it at least.

Velma sat down at the end of Lauren's bed, and took her hand gently. "I'm sorry, I've to to ask this. But...are you sure Cliff wasn't like...I dunno...he didn't have a grudge against the boss or anything? He didn't have any past issues that-"

"No!" screamed Lauren. "I knew him better than anyone, he was-"

At this point, she was so angry that her speech became incomprehensible even to me. I didn't blame her.

"All right, calm down babe." I raised my hand, "You need to talk slower, we can't understand you."

Lauren shook her head. "You can stay." she told me, "but you, get out." she told Velma, pointing to the door. "Get out!"

Velma welled up. "I'm sorry..." she said weakly. "I do believe you, but..."

"Go on Velmster." I said softly. "Honestly, we shouldn't all be in here like this. Why don't you lot go for a walk?"

"Well, uh..." Shaggy began.

I stared at him. "Yes, there's a cafeteria!" I sighed.

"Groovy! Come on guys."

"All right." Fred said, "It was nice to meet you, Lauren."

She shrugged. "Yeah."

The other three left, Velma still looking guilty. I smiled at Lauren, and she half-returned it.

"Sorry, hon. She doesn't mean to be insensitive, she's just got a very logical mind."

"Yeah. I just miss him..." she said miserably. "I can't live without him, I can't..."

"No!" I said firmly, "Don't say that. I know what it's like to lose someone, and I promise you- it gets better. Not quickly, not always totally. But it does."

"Who did you lose?" she asked.

"My older sister." I replied. "She was murdered. By that little boy you saw in the restaurant."

Her eyes widened. "But who is he?" she asked. "He was just standing there in the dining room, smiling at me. I'd gone out, but-"

As she started telling me about it, she began talking faster, and again I had to slow her down. She sighed in frustration, and grabbed the pen and paper Velma had left behind.

I read it. "So, Lauren...this rude guy who laughed at you just before the explosion. I'm _not_ saying that Cliff did it because of him, because I don't think that's true. But you have to accept that it looks that way to everyone else, especially if there was someone tormenting him. It looks like he was a dangerous man, pushed too far."

Lauren nodded. "I know what it looks like, all right? But he'd never hurt anyone. I _know_ that."

"And I do believe you!" I assured her. "I do think he caused the explosion, I don't think he knew what he was doing."

"So, this thing...the Whispering. It's some kind of monster, and it killed your sister?"

"Yeah, and we think it will kill again in four days."

"But that's not why your here..." she said, "You are here because it engraved my name on someone before I was born?"

"Yeah..."

"But why?" she asked, looking scared. "Why would it do that? My parents aren't even from Coolsville or anything...it doesn't make sense."

"I know," I stood up, straightening her covers. "Look, I'm sorry to have come like this. We just thought maybe you might know of something...if you don't that's cool. But we had to check."

"So what will you do?" she asked.  
I sighed. "I dunno. Carry on. Try and stop it...all we can do is give it our best shot, and-"

"I'm coming."

I stared at her. "W...what? No, Lauren. Your badly hurt, you can't leave hospital."

"I'm fine!" she snapped, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs off the bed. "It killed my boyfriend, and if you are gonna do something about that, I want to help."

"No, no, no!" I watched in dismay as she got dressed. "You can't, Lauren. When you are better, maybe, but..."

I stopped. She wasn't watching my lips, she was getting her things together. She couldn't hear a word of my protests. I tried to get her to look at me, but she delibaratley looked the other way. "Look!" I shouted uselessly. "You can't just leave. This is dangerous! Get well! Be with your family. Please don't endanger your life by getting involved."

Finally she looked up at me. "Sorry." she said in her muffled voice. "I didn't quite catch that." she bustled past me out of the door, leaving he standing uselessly in her wake.

Fifteen minutes later, she was marching out of the hospital, despite the doctors' best efforts to dissuade her. I tagged along helplessly. The last thing I had wanted was to get another innocent person involved...yet somehow, she was involved. We didn't understand how, but there had to be a link...her name, carved into Robson many years ago...now her boyfriend causing the explosion at Boccino Heights...there had to be a link.

She tapped me on the shoulder. "Car?" she inquired.

"Yeah, it's..." I stopped. The Mystery Machine had been in a space just a little way down the parking lot. Now, that space sat empty. Even as I watched, a smart little car pulled into it. "What..." I stared at the space, to Lauren and back again.

"It's gone!" I said clearly. "My friends must have left without us..."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Taxi then?"

"I guess so..." I said, checking my phone. Velma had texted a few minutes ago, but I'd been too busy trying to stop Lauren from leaving the hospital. I opened it now - "soz Daph, Fred's idea." My eyes narrowed. What were they doing?

/

 **Fred**

I sat in the smart lounge of the Blake residence, twitching my thumbs nervously. "Velma, you should do the talking, all right?"

Velma gave me a hard stare. "This was your idea!" she replied. "You do it."

"Oh but-"

"No. Your idea, you talk to him. Not me. You ain't _scared_ of him are you?"

"Yes!" I whimpered, turning to Shaggy. "Shaggy, man...maybe you-"

"No way, pal." Shaggy said shortly. "What if he hurts me?"

"What about me?" I whined. "Please, can-"

My blood froze. Daphne's father had just walked in.

"Yes, yes, well _yes_?" George snapped aggressively, sitting down in his favourite armchair. "What the blazes do you want?"

I gulped, and replied in a shaky voice. "Sorry, Mr. Blake...I was hopi-"

"Uh, one moment, _please_." he cut across me, giving me a blood-curdling stare. "You recall, I hope, that you are _always_ unwelcome in my home. I thought I told you that?"

I nodded, "You did sir...yes, but it's urgent."

" _Well?_ " he growled. I sat, rooted to the seat...it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but...what if he killed me? What if he actually killed me? What was I thinking, telling him everything? He'd never believe me...I turned to Velma, who looked away stubbornly. Literally shaking, I turned to Mr. Blake again.

"Well it's-"

"One second, please." he barked, standing up and grabbing an antique golf-club from next to the fireplace. He sat down again cradling it in his hands, saying nothing of it. He glanced at me again.

I forced myself to calm down. Looking him in the eye (when I could bear it) I began telling him everything that had happened in the past few months. The more I spoke, the calmer and more confident I started to feel.

"And so..." I finished finally, "We're just totally clueless about what to do, sir...we think it will kill again in three days from now. We just can't handle it...we can't." I finished lamely.

George had listened quietly, and for a long minute said nothing at all. Finally, he spoke.

"So my daughter was killed by a...what was it?"

"It usually looks like a child." Velma replied, finally speaking. "Or sometimes it looks like the adult version of the child...but that's just what we see. It's some sort of...extra-dimensional hive mind. I can't really explain it..."

"Clearly."

"Yeah, well...Mr. Blake, you have to believe us. We've got proof, if you don't."

"Yes, yes, yes, whatever." George raised his hand, silencing her. "Let's assume, for now, that I did believe this nonsense. What in the blazes do you expect me to do about it? I'm angry, yes I'm angry! My daughter was killed by a lunatic. How _dare_ you use her death as a part of this crap! How dare you?"

I shrank down in my seat. George had gone red in the face, and was gripping the golf-club by the handle. I whimpered involuntarily. Velma was more relaxed. He respected Velma slightly more than me, and whatever his flaws, he would never raise a hand against a woman.

"You've got...forgive me...connections, haven't you? Terry Vasquez?"

"He went off the grid."

"All right, well someone like him. Is there anyone who could help? If we at least had some sort of muscle behind us, the ability to defend ourselves...we..."

George rose from his seat, the club raised above his head. He was coming at me. "Help!" I squealed, as Shaggy screamed and fell over the back of the seat to get away. He was going to hit me, I knew it. I managed to duck just as the club came crashing down, breaking the backrest of my seat. I sank my right fist into George's stomach, hard. He groaned, but it didn't stop him coming. He swung the club again, narrowly missing my head.

"George!" Velma screamed, "Stop!"

But he didn't stop. He swung the club again, and once again I aimed for his stomach. But he knew what I was doing. At the last second, he threw the club down and grabbed my fist in a tight hold. He lifted me bodily off the floor, and slammed me down. I groaned as my body went crashing to the floor. He leaned over me, tears in his eyes.

"Listen here, you stupid, worthless, little twerp." he growled. "My daughter is dead! My wife and I are grieving and you and these two idiots are trying to make a case for yourself out of it. I won't have it."

"That ain't how it happened!" I protested. "We didn't believe Daph at first...it was her who made us believe it."

"I won't hear any more of this!" he bellowed, throwing his club back over to the fireplace.

"You two," he grunted at Velma and Shaggy. "Get this lummox out of my house." he gave me a kick in the ribs, sending a fresh bolt of pain down my body.

"And you..." he said to me softly, anger dripping from his voice. "Keep your hands away from Daphne. She likes you, and that's the only reason you aren't leaving here in individual pieces in a plastic bag. Do you get that? Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

I nodded, allowing the others to haul me up off the floor. They half-carried me from the room, and out of the manor. We sat back down in the Mystery Machine, with Velma at the wheel. I wasn't up to driving.

"That was inevitable, pal." Shaggy said to me quietly.

I nodded, massaging my aching ribs gently. How could I have been so stupid? Velma had said he'd never believe me, and Daphne would be furious with me...

"Don't blame yourself Fred." Velma said bluntly. "He's a thug and a bully, but he's helped us out in the past. Maybe it was worth asking, I don't know...maybe he'll come to change his mind, especially when someone dies in...well, three days now."

I looked at her. "Don't say that..." I murmured. "We're trying to stop it..."

Nobody replied. _Could_ we stop it? Or would we all die trying?

For once in my life, I truly couldn't tell.

 **Note: Terry Vasquez is a character from a previous story of mine, not part of any official Scooby Doo franchise.**


	13. Day Three

**Daphne**

"Even if this does work," Velma told me bluntly. "It might be incredibly dangerous? You know that, right?"

I nodded. "Sure, but no more dangerous than Fred's stupid idea. Did he really think my dad would listen?"

"I don't know what he was thinking Daph, but really...are you sure about this?"

"Not really." I admitted. "But what choice do we have? We've got two days, and not a clue what to do. This could turn the tide in our favour, Velma. It's worth a try."

"I know Daphne, I know. As long as you are sure, yeah?"

"I've said so, haven't I!" I snapped, pushing her gently aside and marching into the darkened lounge. Fred, Shaggy and Lauren were sitting in a semi-circle on the floor, each looking distinctly uncomfortable. We joined them, making a full circle. Scooby Doo watched from his basket apprehensively. I looked at Lauren. "Well?" I said.

She held out a small vial of green slime.

"Randomonium," she announced. "Ever heard of it?"

"We sure have." I laughed, "it can do amazing stuff, but in the wrong hands it''s deadly."

We exchanged a glance. We well remembered how it was once used to create monsters, an incident that had very nearly led to our deaths.

Shaggy tapped Lauren on the arm and waited until she was looking at him before speaking. "You _made_ that bottle?" he asked, impressed.

"No. My old university professor gave me it years ago. It's rare."

"But are we sure it will work?" Fred asked, "Really sure?"

"It will do...something." Velma said uncertainly. "This could go quite badly wrong, you guys to realize that?"

" _Yes!_ " we all replied in unison. We'd lost count of how many times she's warned us.

"All right," she said, finally admitting defeat. "Daphne, let's see what you've got."

"Right." I reached into my pocket and unfolded the slip of paper. My drawing of the Whispering. I'd drawn it's heart, the empty void of evil and rage that I'd forced it to show when it invaded my dream. It's true form, or as close to it's true form as we'd ever understand. Looking at it gave my the shivers, and I passed it over to Lauren who examined it carefully.

"Just do it, Lauren." I said suddenly. "If we don't do it right now, we'll all chicken out. Do it."

Lauren shrugged. "Ok. Here it goes." In one swift movement, she opened the bottle of randomonium and allowed a few drops to spill onto my drawing. We all watched, our nerves on edge. Randomonium could make monster costumes into fully fledged monsters. I only hoped that a mere picture would produce a less dangerous result...oh, how I hoped...

The page started to glow green. Lauren put it down gently in the middle of the circle. I felt Shaggy try to rise next to me, and held his leg tightly. "Be brave, pal." I whispered to him, "We're all in this together." He lowered himself back to the floor reluctantly. We all waited with baited breath...then, quite suddenly, I heard it.

 ** _Do you hear the Whispering?_**

 ** _The Whispering is near._**

 ** _And if you hear us say your name,_**

 ** _It means we're coming here._**

"Do you guys hear that?" I murmured. Everyone nodded, apart from Lauren.

"What is it?" she asked, looking scared.

"There's singing..." I replied. It seemed to be coming from the drawing itself.

 _ **Do not fear the Whispering.**_

 _ **That simply wouldn't do.**_

 _ **For if it knows you fear it so;**_

 _ **It might just come for you.**_

We glanced at each other, terrified out of our wits. The page itself seemed to be gone. In it's place, a glowing green orb, with a small scale impression of the Whispering's heart on it. It seemed to be beating, almost drawing in air from the room.

"We've got to know..." I muttered. "We have to."

"Wait, Daph!" Fred screamed, realizing what I was about to do. But too late.

I plunged my hand into the glowing page. My blood turned cold. My hands went numb, and my hair stood on end. Fred stood up and tried to drag my hand from the page. "Keep back!" I screamed, in a voice totally unlike my own.

"Daphne," Velma yelled, looking horrified. "Don't do this!"

"I must!" I replied, my voice hoarse and gravelly. I shut my eyes, and forgot everyone else. I forgot I was in the living room in Mystery Inc HQ. I forgot who I was. I had only one thing on my mind - "Show me the Whispering." I said aloud, "And show us how to stop it."

I felt myself floating away from my body. My eyes were tightly shut, yet images flew before them. I saw a swarm...tiny creatures floating through space...a sphere of some sort. Several of them...and a boy. _That_ boy. I saw him as a man. Was this the birth of the Whispering? I saw plans...ambitions...sheer bitterness and envy...and there was another. I couldn't make this person out, not even the gender. But I understood- this was the person who banished the Whispering. Oh, how it deplored this person...so much...so much. The intensity of it was unbelievable...I couldn't feel myself any more.

Then it stopped.

I opened my eyes. I was in a city...an old city. The clothes and structures made me think 1800's. "What..." I muttered, "Why have you brought me here?"

"Daph!"

I span round, my heart thumping. "Dawn." I replied, "Is it you? Really you?"

"Course not. I'm dead. I suppose you might call be the...the conflicted side of the Whispering. When your made up of so many minds, it's inevitable that some will think differently. That's why nothing we ever do makes sense. Too many voices, no clear leader. Just an overall aim."

"And what's that?"

"Well, it used to be gaining true form. The chance to be alive in your sense of the word. But that ship has sailed, long ago. Now, we just hang around in your little world, bumping people off now and again for a bit of fun."

"Fun?" I repeated, my blood boiling.

Dawn shrugged, "Don't blame me, Daph. I told you, I represent the side that doesn't agree with all this. I'd love it to end, I really would."

"So tell me how."

"I can't. Not directly. I've told you a fair amount though, eh? Where would you say we are right now, for instance?"

I looked around uncertainly. "Give up."

Dawn scoffed. "So I'll tell you. London. A long time ago. Not the London from our...your world. This is a different universe entirely. And er...if I'm right, this is the day that the boy was born."

"The boy who became the Whispering?"

"No, no, no. The boy didn't become the Whispering. He grew from a nasty little boy into a nasty little man. He isn't the Whispering. But he _was_ a key ingredient in the formation of the Whispering. Sort of. With me so far?"

"No." I replied, my head spinning. "I'm more interested in how we can stop it."

"I've said, I can't tell you that, little sis. Want a hint though?"

"Yeah, I would!"

"Your new friend- Lauren. You'd like her to leave really wouldn't you? You don't want her involved. Do you?"

"I like the girl." I replied, "but yeah, your right. I don't want her to get hurt, it would be my fault. I got her involved..."

"Yes, yes, whatever. But I'd encourage you to keep her close by. She'll save you."

I stared at "Dawn" incredulously. "She'll save me? What do you mean?"

"There shall come a time," Dawn said evenly, "when you will be in danger, more danger than you've ever experienced before. And on that day, you will do what Lauren cannot. Remember that- you will do what Lauren cannot."

"I don't get it..." I mumbled. "Please...whoever you are, just tell me what to do! Please!"

Dawn laughed, "Come to us." she said. "You do know where we are, and I think you've known in your heart for a long time. You will likely die, but if you want to take the risk, then you know where to find the Whispering. Come to us."

"I _don't_ know!" I protested, tears of frustration in my eyes, "I don't."

The illusion was going dark all around us. Suddenly I could feel myself again- I was sitting down, back in Coolsville. I could feel Freddie next to me, could hear the others breathing...I was going back.

"You do know!" came Dawn's voice through the darkness. "Just think!"

With a gasp, I opened my eyes, coughing violently. I was shaking uncontrollably, my eyes streaming with tears. I tried to stand up, but my legs collapsed under my weight. Fred grabbed me and steered me onto the sofa, which I collapsed onto weakly. The piece of paper had been burnt to ashes.

"I know..." I gasped, trying to catch my breath. The team surrounded me, worried. Velma felt my forehead, but I brushed her hand away. I didn't have a temperature- I was freezing. It was like my life force had been partially drained. I took a few shuddering breaths and tried again - "I know...where it is..."

"Where?" everyone asked.

"The retirement home." I replied simply. "Where else would it be? That's where Mr. Robson is."

"How do you know?" Lauren asked.

"I just do. I knew from the moment I walked into that place- there's something wrong with it. I just...I didn't _feel_ like I knew it. I didn't think about it...I suppose that's the Whispering's doing. Covering it's tracks."

"So what do we do?" Shaggy whispered, his face white.

"We've got to go there." I said. "We need to go there, and we need to stop it."

"All right, look." Velma said sternly, "I agree, and disagree at the same time. But we can't just turn up. There's the residents to consider- Mr. Robson among them. I don't want anyone getting hurt as a result of our poor planning. We need...well, we need..."

"Rogs!" barked Scooby. We all jumped.  
"What's that boy?" Shaggy asked, petting Scooby's head.

"Rogs!" he repeated. "Ruard rogs!"

"Guard dogs," Shaggy said. "Like, where are we gonna get guard dogs..."

Scooby planted his paw on his face in exasperation, "Ramily!"

"Scooby Doo's family!" Velma exclaimed. But she shook her head, "What if they get possessed? Like those dogs at the movie lot?"

"I don't think so," I chipped in, "I learned a little more about it just now- it came from another universe, like you said Velma. From London in another universe, as a matter of fact...the boy that we see- he was real. It's like he was sort of...used as a template or something. I dunno...but it's powers aren't limitless, we know that. It can possess a couple of old dogs, but...several dogs from the same family, all together at the same time...I don't think it's capable of that. The bond is too strong."

"Well I hope your right." Fred said. "Shaggy, can you arrange it? Have Scooby's family brought here?"

"Probably, yeah. Could have them here tomorrow- but like, I don't want them in any danger man! I love those dogs!"

"Ryeah!" Scooby barked, "Rut too rangerous without!"

"I grinned at Scooby lovingly, "He's right." I said, "We wouldn't let anything bad happen to them if we could help it, but equally...we need some sort of muscle if we're doing this. Just in case...obviously Burch still isn't up to it, so..."

Fred clapped his hands together, "Let's do it." he said briskly, "I'm not happy about it, but we've got to do this. If we don't, someone will die. Horribly. We might not be able to stop that. But if we don't try, I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror."

"All right, we're on." Velma said. "Shaggy can deal with that, and the rest of us will make a plan. So then, are we all...uh...Lauren? You all right?"

Lauren was staring incredulously at Scooby Doo. I tapped her on the arm. "What's up?"

"That dog...he...can he _talk_?" she asked me in wonderment.

"Sure he can." I said, giggling. "But that's a long story."


	14. Day Four

**Lauren**

 _I'm writing this down for a very simple reason- I don't know if I'll be alive to tell the story myself. I'm sitting in the spare room at Mystery Inc HQ. It's ten in the evening, but in a couple of hours, we're going out. We're going to end this, or at least we're going to try. Do you know what I think? I think we'll die. What's that you ask? Why aren't I scared? Simple- a few short days ago, the love of my life was forced to blow himself up, taking several innocent people with him. I can't live without him. I can't even go home. Everything we shared together will be there. His clothes will be there. His DVD's. His stupid games console. But he won't. Right now, the prospect of getting killed in a few hours scares me less than the thought of going back to my own home._

 _So here I am now- Mystery Inc HQ. Home to (you guessed it) Mystery Inc. What an odd bunch though! There's Fred - handsome for sure, yet pretty vapid. Velma, super-smart, cool and logical. Shaggy, I just don't understand. He's a total coward, yet exposes himself to danger almost every day, solving mysteries with the gang. The bravest coward I've ever met. And Daphne...she's just lovely, isn't she? Looks a little like me, actually. But she's damaged - such is her determination to bring the Whispering to justice (however that may be done, and whatever that justice may be) that she's overlooked the numerous positives left in her life- and I fear she'll come to regret that. I hope not. Like I said, I don't care about me anymore. But I worry for her. Then there's that dog! Scooby Doo. He can talk! Amazing, huh?_

 _A few other dogs came today, family of his. Yabba Doo, Scooby Dee, Scooby Dum, Ruby Doo. Shaggy contacted their respective owners, and went to collect them all today. Much as I like dogs, five huge mutts running about the house isn't the most relaxing of things- but then who am I to complain? It was funny watching Scooby greet them all for sure- doing a bizarre dance with Scooby Dum being the particular highlight. I almost laughed._

 _So I know what you might be thinking- what's the plan. Brilliant question. What plan? We don't have a plan. Well we do, but it ain't exactly watertight. Let me run through it- we go to this old retirement home. We evacuate it (we don't know how yet), we find the Whispering (again, we don't really know how) and we destroy it (we don't know how to do that either.) It's not looking good, is it? No...still, this is where we are at. It killed Cliff. Before that, it killed Daphne's sister. Goodness knows how many others it's killed. Not only here in Coolsville, but before that- if Daphne's right, it's been around for an unimaginably long time...how much bloodshed has it caused in all those years?_

 _But there's more to it than that- somehow, I'm a part of this. It engraved my last name in some old guy...well, why? What for? I never knew my dad, but my mom wasn't from Coolsville. My family isn't from here at all, or else I'd wonder if some long-dead relative of mine once fought against it...but I don't think so. Because why else would it drive Cliff into blowing up Boccino Heights, an action which would surely have killed me if I'd left even a minute later than I did. I think it wanted me dead that night. It nearly succeeded. Say- remember Cindy, the lass who spent more time on smoke breaks than working? No? Fair enough. Well she survived, I've learned today. Just for a time, my heart was a little less broken. A little._

 _Back to me though, I just can't figure out why. Why does the powerful entity from another world have a particular interest in the girl who, until recently, served drinks for a living...why? Talking to Daphne about what she saw in the vision, it seems as though the Whispering is, by it's very nature, an illogical creature. In that it's actions literally make no sense to the human mind- it's not that we don't have the brain power to comprehend it's behaviour, it's that the creature itself is formed of billions of separate minds- so many ideas and choices, it's no wonder it acts so strangely. But it makes it less predictable, and thus infinetley more dangerous..._

 _So we'll go to this retirement home and do our best, because it we don't, it will kill someone. Then it will disappear for months, maybe even years. And then it will kill again. Then it will kill again after that. Will it ever stop of it's own accord? I doubt it. I suppose it's possible that the Whispering won't even show itself to us. Or it might, and kill us all. Or...I don't believe it yet, but there's just a small chance- we'll stop it? That chance does exist doesn't it? I think it does. Is it a good chance? No. Will it happen? I don't think so. But I do hope so._

 _But if we don't succeed, and if anyone happens across this letter - I'll leave it on the bed at Mystery Inc HQ, so presumably it will be found by the police or something if we all die- then now you know. Now you've been warned. There's an evil being out there, and if we can't finish what we've started, someone needs to finish it for us._

 _I don't expect us to win. I only hope. I'm allowed to hope._


	15. Day Five

**Daphne**

I laughed hollowly when I saw the name of the old retirement home- I can't quite believe I'd never noticed it before, you see. The River's Whisper Retirement Complex. The clue is in the name, right?

It was pitch black outside. Myself, Lauren and Freddie were sat on the bench in the retirement home's garden, the same one where I first met Mr. Robson. We sat in silence, too scared to talk. Lauren was especially tense- none of us could see much in the unlit darkness of the garden, but me and Fred could hear, and could listen out for anybody (or anything) that might approach. She could not. I slid her hand into my own and squeezed it tightly. She returned the grip, smiling. She looked sad- of course she was. Her partner had died not long ago. It took me back, back to those horrible weeks and months following my own loss, the loss caused by the despicable creature we hoped to stop tonight.

"Any moment..." Fred whispered from beside me. I nodded, and tapped Lauren twice on the arm - that meant "get ready". We'd decided that before coming. She nodded.

"Freddie..." I muttered, "I'm very scared."

"Me too, Daph. Me too."

My ears pricked up- a faint whooshing sound was coming from the other side of the retirement house. As I listened, it grew louder. Then, quite suddenly, a huge bang rocked my eardrums. Despite expecting it, I still jumped. The firework had, as planned, struck the brickwork of the building, just below the ceiling. Perfectly aimed. And not remotely strong enough to cause any serious damage, let alone a fire. But enough smoke, we hoped, to trip the fire alarm.

Sure enough, the muggy night air erupted into noise, a wailing klaxon which spread across the garden and beyond. Me and Fred exchanged a glance and smiled. I tapped Lauren four times on the arm. In other words - "we're on."

The three of us stood up and crept, in single file, across the lawn, keeping low and watching the building closely. Lights were flickering on in every window- the nursing staff were no doubt rounding up all the oldies (among them, my old friend Robson), fleeing from the fire which didn't exist. We stayed low to the floor, hardly daring to breathe, anxiously staring from window to window- the staff and residents would be busy getting out, moving to their evacuation point on the other side of the building. They wouldn't stop to look out the window...we hoped.

As we approached the perimeter, several figures loomed out in front of us, approaching from the treeline to the left. The lead figure, lanky tall and scruffy, got to us first. "Shaggy!" I whispered, "All good?"

"Yeah, Daph." He replied. He turned away from me and spoke into a concealed walkie-talkie under his trademark green t-shirt. "Thanks Rufus!"

"Well sure, dude!" came the voice of Shaggy's wayward, unpredictable cousin. Exactly the sort of guy you could persuade to shoot a firework at an old people's home. "Have a ball folks!" he cut off the connection- he had to get off the scene before the cops figured out what had happened.

"Will he be all right?" Fred murmured.

"Hey man! If there's one thing my cousin can do, it's get away with things. Don't worry."

"Ok. The dogs?"

"All present," Velma announced, joining us. Flanked by no less than five Great Dane's, including Scooby Doo. "We let them evacuate, and then we go in. I'll head straight for the security room, cut the alarms and lock the doors- the fire crew will still get in course, but I'll buy you a little time. You lot- search for it. Find it. Destroy it. It's gotta be here..."

"It is." I replied with certainty. "What's more, it wants us here. It thinks it will wipe us out."

"And it yet might. But...a pack of five dogs, five related dogs being here tonight...I don't think it was counting on that. I don't think it can overcome that bond. It can't control them all. Whilst it's distracted, do something...anything. Find a way to destroy it."

"Guys!" Shaggy interrupted, peering round the corner of the house. "They're leaving! Look!"

We did. Sure enough, people were streaming out of the doors and standing around in a parking lot some meters from the building. Our moment had come.

"All right." I said, forcing the lock of a nearby window open with my nail-file. I went in first, emerging in a corridor with bedrooms all along it. Fortunately, it was all lit in here. That same musty, neglected smell greeted me like an old friend. The place was as stuffy and unpleasant as ever, and worse still, we now knew that the Whispering was here. Close to Robson- just the way it liked it. The others poured in after me, Shaggy collapsing in a heap on the floor as he fell through.

"All right...let's split up." Fred said. "Velma, head to the security room. Take...I dunno, Ruby Doo and Yabba Doo if you like?"

"Sure thing." Velma and the dogs disappeared off down the corridor, obviously having studied the layout before we came- typical.

"Shaggy, you take Scooby Doo and Scooby Dum, check out upstairs."

"Fine." Shaggy mumbled, ambling off with the dogs trotting along at his heels.

"That leaves us on the ground floor," Fred told me and Lauren. "We've got Scooby Dee."

"Awesome." I said, scratching Scooby Dee's meticulously groomed white coat.

We set off down the corridor, out hearts in our throats. Any moment now, we were expecting a door to crash open behind us, a small boy to appear out in front of us...ready to pounce, ready to tear us apart...any moment now...

/

/

 **Velma**

"Come on you two." I whispered to the dogs, who trundled along behind me. I pushed the security room's door open quietly, hardly daring to breathe- there was a chance that the security personnel, aware that there wasn't actually any fire, might have remained behind...or even worse...no! Stop! I had the dogs with me. I was safe...right?

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. A small room, little bigger than a closet, stood on the other side of the door. A CCTV system was set up to the left, and a computer to the right. On the wall, a bright red button, labelled "lockdown". I smiled, and slammed my fist against it, hearing a faint click from somewhere down the hall- the door locking, hopefully all the doors locking. Locking everyone out...yet locking _us_ in. I turned around and focused on the monitors. I saw Shaggy, Scooby Doo and Scooby Dum on the first floor, creeping around reluctantly. Scooby Dum seemed a little more confident, no doubt blissfully unaware of the extent of the danger that was here. On the ground floor, the others crept from room to room...I scanned every monitor, looking for another figure. A boy, perhaps a man. Whatever it felt like being today. But there was nothing. Empty room after empty room. The images were black and white, fuzzy, yet clear enough to show that nobody else was on camera. Yet for obvious reasons, there were no cameras in the resident's rooms. I pulled out my phone and texted the group chat we'd set up. "No sign on cameras. Check rooms." I sent. I watched as both parties received the text, changing tact. Checking each room as they passed, every corner of the home not covered by the CCTV.

Except this room...

I felt my chest tense up, a faint panic starting to swell within me. I wheeled around instinctively, checking the room I stood in. Nothing, aside from the two dogs. They looked at me inquisitively, wondering what was wrong. "It's fine." I told them reassuringly. "All fine." I turned back to the CCTV system. But something had changed...my heart pumping, my eyes were drawn to a screen labelled "floor 1, 4". First floor, fourth camera. Before I looked round, it had shown a narrow stretch of hallway, with two closed doors there, two doors leading to resident's rooms. One of those doors was now open. The light inside the room was on. I scrambled for my phone again, and this time I didn't text- I called.

"Shaggy..." I whispered, watching him answer on camera "floor 1, 2", "there's something up there with no. Not so far away...just a little further down, one of the rooms is open."

/

/

 **Shaggy**

"All right..." I whimpered, "Get the others up here."

"I will." replied Velma. "Just hold tight, ok. Have you seen anything?"

"No. I'm waiting here for the others." I hung up, my hands shaking violently. I was close to tears now, the whole building seeming to be closing in on me, crushing me. My breath came in rattling gasps.

I reached for Scooby's collar, and scratched his neck comfortingly- comforting myself more than him. "It's all right, old buddy." I promised him. "It's all right. You ok, Dum?" Scooby Dum nodded, his eyes rotating in his head.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs behind me. Thank goodness! I spun around, expecting to see backup. But only Lauren strode towards me, smiling faintly. "Don't be scared." she said to me comfortingly.

I managed a smile. "Where are the others?" I asked her pressingly, "Are they all right?"

"Yeah." Lauren replied, "I said I'd come up to help myself. They still have to search down there."

"Oh right," I said, not entirely happy- if there truly was danger ahead, how was Lauren going to help? We needed more people, and more dogs. Briefly I thought about telling her this, but there wasn't the time to argue.  
"Come on then." I muttered, gesturing down the hallway. To my surprise, however, Lauren just shook her head. It was a clumsy movement, almost as if it hurt her.

"We could do that." she said to me softly. She reached out and stroked my cheek softly. Astonished, I took her hand. "Lauren, what are you doing?" I asked, staring at her in wonderment. She really was astoundingly beautiful.  
"Why bother, though?" she asked me in her muffled voice. I couldn't be sure, but it almost...it sounded as though she was flirting with me. Seducing me. In spite of the situation, I felt myself becoming aroused- this woman, this beautiful, intelligent woman who was nearly ten years older than me...she was attracted to me! Wow! I gripped her small hand in my large one. "Your hot." I told her breathlessly. "Really hot."

"So are you, babe." she whispered, pulling me into a tight hug. "What say we make use of one of these abandoned rooms right here? What say we forget this mystery nonsense and..."  
"That sounds good!" I half-screamed, burying my face in her luxurious orange hair. It smelled of assorted hair products.  
"Splendid." she replied. Briefly, I wondered how she could hear me- we were hugging- she couldn't see my mouth, couldn't read my lips. But it didn't matter. No, it didn't matter. I was vaguely aware of the two dogs - my pals- watching, Scooby Doo looking worried, Scooby Dum just chuckling. A little chap was standing between them, scratching their ears lovingly. He wore an old fashioned sort of smock. As I planted my lips firmly on Lauren's, the boy giggled.  
"It'sh love!" he lisped joyfully, clappping his hands together. "It'sh true love! Kiss the girl!"

I did. She returned the kiss, and I felt her hands explore my body. Oh, this was lovely! This was lovely...the boy continued to giggle hysterically. "Butt out, champ!" I told him sternly. "This ain't something for a little boy to be watching."

"Ok shir!" he said playfully. "But if the othersh try to stop you having fun, do what needs to be done! Kill them! Kill them!"

"I will..." I murmured, my hands around Lauren's hips. "They won't break us up, Lauren...they won't..."

And then something broke. I woke up. Lauren was nowhere in sight, and I was collapsed on the floor of the hallway. But there _was_ a boy. _The_ boy. He was standing between the dogs, stroking them gently. They both stood stock still, their eyes gazing into the distance.

"Get away from them!" I screamed, charging towards the Whispering in blind fury and panic. Without thinking, I attempted to lash out and strike it. It was tired, I could see that. Controlling my mind had tired it out. But it was by no means out of the game. Before my eyes, the boy swelled into a young man of my own age. "Get stuffed." he said aggressively, his lisp changing into a cockney accent. I felt a sickening pain in my head, and then everything turned black. Briefly, I felt my chest bursting with pride. It had tried to possess me and failed...I'd thrown it out! With that thought on my mind, I blacked out completely.

/

/

 **Fred**

"No, no, no, no!" I screamed, rushing to Shaggy's side, checking his pulse urgently. There was no sign of who knocked him out, but we knew beyond any doubt who it was. Lauren barged me aside and held her cheek to his face. "Breathing." she said. I sighed in deep relief, my legs wobbling. Daphne clutched her chest, "Lauren, d'you wanna stay with him? Get him outta here..." she panted, her words pouring out quickly. She looked pale.

"You all right, Daphne?" I asked in alarm. Daphne swayed on the spot.

"Yeah, I...I..."

"Why don't you go as well?" I pressed.

"Nah...nah...Lauren, get him outta here if y'can, then do you wanna get Velma? I dunno if-"

Lauren raised her hand. "I can't understand." she said, quite unable to read Daphne's lips at the clumsy speed she was talking. "Slow down."

Daphne just shook her head, her breathing heavy. I grabbed her around the middle. "Come on, Daph. You-"

"I'm having a panic attack." Daphne replied simply, matter of factly. "You gotta support me, Fred. But we're carrying on. Gotta finish this. Gotta..."

A thousand protests flickered through my mind. A thousand reasons why she needed to go, to calm down and relax a little. But this was Daphne. There's no way she was turning back.

"She's fine." I told Lauren, focusing on keeping my own speech slow and calm. "Take him downstairs. Scooby Dum will help you. Find Velma, and stay with her."

Lauren nodded, but gestured towards Scooby Doo and his cousin, both of whom were still gazing into thin air. The Whispering might not be able to possess them right now, but he could incapacitate them well enough.  
"Scooby Snacks!" Daphne wheezed, getting a couple of the treats out of her handbag. She wafted them in front of the dogs, and sure enough they started to stir. I screamed again as, simultaneously, both dogs woke up and pounced on the treats, nearly knocking me and Daph over in the process.

"They're fine," I managed to laugh. "Scooby Doo, Scooby Dee, stay with me and Daphne. Scooby Dum, help Lauren."

"Raggy!" Scooby Doo whined.  
"He's fine, buddy." I promised, hoping it was true. "But please come with us...we need you, boy."

Scooby nodded. And so, we parted ways. Lauren and Scooby Dum turned back, dragging Shaggy to safety. Me, Daphne and Scooby...we carried right on. Down the hallway, to the door which had apparently opened by itself...yet actually, we already knew what room that was. We knew, because we'd been here a few days ago. Visiting someone in that very room. We turned a corner, and there it was. Door wide open, light shining brightly from inside.

"R...Robson's..." Daphne managed to whine.

"I know, Daph." I said, my heart pumping painfully. Without thinking- because if I did think, I'd have turned and run, run far away from here and never turned back, taking Daphne and Scooby Doo and Scooby Dee, with me. But I didn't think- I walked right in.

It was the same old room- and the same old timer sat on his rocking chair by the window, looking at us in alarm- tears streaming down his face.

"Mr. Robson." I said to him, my blood turning to ice at the sight of him.  
"Fred. Daphne." He greeted us warmly, smiling. Yet his eyes were full of sadness, sadness that we were there.

"Yes sir." I said, trying to hide my terror. I knew, at that point. I just knew...

"And..." he nodded towards the dogs.

"Rooby Doo!" Scooby barked, oblivious to the terrible danger this frail old man represented to us.

"Scooby Dee! Scooby Dee barked proudly, equally oblivious. I glanced at Daphne, wondering if she sensed it. But she was out cold in my arms, her eyes shut tightly. Her face as pale as milk.

"Is she all right?" Mr. Robson asked. "She looks unwell."

"She is..." I nodded, backing towards the door slowly.

"A pity. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sorry you are here, Fred. I'm sorry you've taken this course of action. Please forgive me."

I turned my back on him and rushed for the door. Mr. Robson wasn't sorry about something he'd done. He was sorry for what he was about to do.

I heard him clap his hands behind me. "Here!" he called out. I stumbled out of his room, The dogs following, finally sensing the danger. The door slammed shut behind us, and I wheeled around. The door was tightly shut again, yet it couldn't have been him that did it...he was right across the room, sitting by the window. He couldn't have...

With a sickening crack, the door was split open. It was split cleanly in half, right down the middle. I shielded my face from the flying sawdust, trying to protect Daphne as well. I opened my eyes again...and there it was. The little boy, who was anything but a little boy. Standing in the doorway, grinning. I hadn't seen it before, hadn't truly understood why everyone who had was so scared of it...I did now. It was a mask- the little boy was a badly fitting mask. A look in those eyes told me all I needed to know, told me why we should never, ever have come here.

"Trick or treat!" it cackled. I felt my head explode in a wave of pain, and then everything vanished. I don't even remember hitting the floor.

/

/

 **Lauren**

I hammered on the door of the security room, Scooby Dum dragging Shaggy slowly along by the ankle. He was a remarkably gentle dog for his size. I'd been a trifle worried that his considerable stupidity might prevent him from understanding his own strength, might lead to him snapping Shaggy's ankle in half, but that definetley wasn't the case.

Velma, of course, would have seen us coming on the monitors. She would have seen what had happened to Shaggy. So why wasn't she answering? Suddenly, I was uneasy. Very uneasy indeed...I pushed the door open gently. Velma was in there. Staring straight ahead. Her eyes fixed, looking at the floor. The dogs were the same. Feeling sick, I checked them all. All breathing. But...nothing. I shook Velma urgently, but she wouldn't wake- couldn't. "Come on..." I murmured, tears of desperation in my eyes. "Come on!"

And then a small boy in old, musty clothes appeared. The Whispering. I screamed, shouted for Scooby Dum to come quickly. Sure enough, he bounded onto the scene. But too late. The boy advanced on me, and lifted me clean into the air above him. Scooby Dum tried to attack, but the boy merely looked at him, and all at once he backed down, his eyes taking on that same glossy look that Velma and the other's had. Then, the boy brought me crashing down onto the floor. My minor injuries from the explosion at Boccino Heights had not yet fully healed- they exploded into fresh pain. I felt my arm snap cleanly in half, searing agony stretching down my body. I couldn't move- the slightest movement set my broken arm on fire. Even if I could get up, no way could I walk...I was done. I watched helplessly as the creature leered down at me. "Howle..." he hissed. Then, just like that, he was gone. Yet somehow, Velma was gone as well. And the dogs. He'd taken them...taken them where? It was hopeless! I shut my eyes, and waited for one of two things- I was either going to be found by the fire crews who eventually broke in, or else the Whispering would come back and finish me off himself. Yet why hadn't be done it already?

Howle...my name. And yet, the way he said it...almost like...almost like he was _scared_! But why? Why? There was nothing I could do to him that the others couldn't...so why was he so scared of me in particular? Think! I told myself, trying to blot out the pain in my arm. "Think!" I said aloud, heard by nobody. Not even myself...

Not even myself...

Then, just like that, I understood. I thought I knew...yes! It made sense. It made perfect sense! I screamed in agony as I rose to my feet, using my good arm to haul myself up. I had to find them. I needed to find the others, I needed to know where he'd taken them. If I was right- and I think I was- then only I could save them now.

I'd been wrong, you see. I'd assumed that I was no greater a danger to the Whispering than the others, But I was wrong. I was by far it's biggest threat. Not because of what I could do. But because of what I couldn't...

/

/

 **Daphne**

My head throbbed, and my stomach heaved. I was aware that I was lying down, lying on a hard wooden surface. Despite the pain I was in, my chest felt loose and free again, and I could tell that my panic attack had subsided. I opened my eyes...a slanted roof was above me, with a window offering a view of the night-sky. The smell of the retirement home, that dank, musty odor, the smell of age, dust and stale air, was worse in here. Much, much worse. The attic then? Yes. That explained the roof. I slowly raised myself up onto one elbow. Thankfully, the light was on. We were all here! All of Mystery Inc. I was the only one who was awake. Fred lay beside me, Shaggy and Velma opposite. The dogs all around us. I could see them all breathing...but where was Lauren? Why wasn't she here?

" _She got away_." The optimist in me whispered. _"She got out, and good for her. She didn't owe us anything. She didn't have to risk her life for us. Good for her!"_

The thing is though, she wouldn't have done that.

 _"She's dead."_ The pessimist in me hissed. _"Dead and gone, killed by the Whispering. Your fault. You brought her into this."_

A rustling in the corner of the empty attic space caught my attention. A pool of strange liquid stood on the floor in the corner of the room. The pool was moving. It didn't seem to be fully liquid, not fully gas. It was just...something. It slithered towards me.

I should have been scared. But I wasn't. It was time.

"Show yourself!" I shouted.

"Gladly." came a cold, male voice. A deep voice. As I watched, the older man grew out of the pool. The man in his fifties or sixties. Dressed in black, and wearing a top hat.

"Wow, brave enough to wear that face today, huh?" I remarked. "Funny, you usually hide behind a little boy's face. That's how much of a coward you are, isn't it? You pretend to be a child because everything scares you, and you figure nothing will hurt you that way."

"The boy is my favourite form," the old man replied harshly. His voice was gravelly. It hadn't been like that last time, had it? Back in that museum, _so_ long ago. Except it wasn't so long ago at all. It was a matter of weeks...yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

"Your tired, aren't you?" I goaded, watching his face change into a snarl. "Busy night, huh? Hypnotizing, knocking people out, goodness knows what else...how much longer can you carry on, huh? How much longer?"

"I am not spent." he growled. "I might be tired, but I am not spent. I promise you that."

"But you will be soon." I told him. "You've expended too much power tonight. You aren't killing anybody else today, I can promise you that. Nobody."

"Oh? You think so?" The man slowly shrank, his clothes morphing, his face changing. Everything getting smaller. I grimaced as I heard cracking and shifting within his body, everything re-arranging itself to fit. Then, it all stopped. The boy stood before me again.

"What makesh you think I've killed anyone today? Yet?" He asked, in his high-pitched voice.

"Lauren's alive then, is she?" I asked, trying to sound defiant. Trying to mask how terrified I was of how that question might be answered.

"Yesh, yesh. For now. She ishn't the one...I will kill once today, and only once, Daphne Blake. But not her. No."

"Me, then?" I asked, looking at him in the eye.

"No."

"Really." I was genuinely surprised. "So I get to live huh? I suppose I should thank you, but I won't."

"Oh. You shouldn't thank me." The Whispering replied. Before I could say anything else, he shut his eyes tightly. A sound filled my ears, one of the most unimaginable sounds I'd ever heard...I'd never heard anything like it...I tried to make him stop, but I couldn't. It was like a ringing, yet so shrill, so unstoppable. I felt my brain scream in protest, unable to comprehend the sound it was receiving, unable to compute it...how could a sound like this exist? What was it? I started to cry. All around me on the floor, my friends woke up- human and dog alike. They all heard it too. It wasn't a loud sound, but it was inescapable- overwhelming. I couldn't think straight, couldn't so much as move...I thought I heard Velma call out in distress, but I was by far too weak to help...by far too weak to do anything...I needed...I needed to get away...far away...but I couldn't. Wouldn't ever move again. Ever again. The noise! The ringing, whining scream...I had to make it stop! I had to! It had to stop!

It did stop! I let out a sob, my heart thumping painfully, my head spinning. What _was_ that? What had happened?

"The white noise." The Whispering said. It still looked like the boy, but the child's high, lisping voice was gone. This voice was deep, rasping and gravelly. He _was_ tired! I could see it. If this were a video game- his health bar would be low. Yet my own was lower...that noise had knocked all my strength out of me. The gang were lying breathlessly on the floor around me, too exhausted to even speak. I tried to move my legs. I couldn't. I gazed down at them in horror, panic filling me. I couldn't move my legs! I couldn't feel them! I tried to move my feet desparatley. They wouldn't move. I could see my legs. They were right there! But all feeling stopped below my waist.

"My legs!" I cried out, my head spinning. "I can't feel my legs! What have you done?"

"The white noise." the Whispering repeated. "The noise of time itself. You would walk again, eventually. But you won't have the c...chance."

Just for a moment, the image of the boy flickered. It was brief, yet I was sure it had happened. Just for a moment...surely it couldn't carry on much longer? We just needed to keep going...to keep tiring it...but we were paraylsed! Unable to move! Yet what more could it do to us now?  
"I can't finish you myself," it wheezed. "Mr. Robson! Come in, my old friend."

I stared in horror as the door to the attic room opened, and in strode Robson. His white hair was a mess, his dressing gown hanging loosely from his body. He wore a grave expression. "I'm sorry, Daphne." he said to me gently. "I didn't want this. I told you to leave it alone. I told you!"

"You!" I cried, "Your working with it! Protecting it! I thought I could trust you, and all this time..."

"No, no." Robson interrupted, remaining as polite and well spoken as ever. "I have not been working with, nor protecting, this creature. Until you came to visit me, I hadn't seen nor heard any sign of it for years. I can honestly say I was at peace. You ruined that."

I swore at him.

"Please!" He insisted. "I do not blame you for coming. I do not blame you for wanting to destroy it. It spoke to me, Daphne...that night, after you came to visit me. It told me that you would come back, and that I was to help. I didn't want to agree. I didn't intend to."

"So why did you?"

"It offered me something I couldn't refuse- the chance to forget."

"What?" I snapped.

Robson sighed. "I will be allowed to forget it, Daphne. Forget that I ever knew of it, forget the horror it subjected me to. Of all the wonderful memories I've forgotten, the only I would most like to forget will stay with me until the day I die. Unless I do as it asks. It will make me forget!"

I stared at him. "So that's it." I asked incredulously, "You've helped it, and he'll wipe your memory of it? _That's_ what's in it for you?"

"You don't understand!" He wailed. He looked nervously at the Whispering, who was smiling gently at him. "You don't fully understand what this creature is. What it has done to my life...Daphne, I tried to make you stop. Not because this depraved monster told me to do so, but because I was worried about you. Worried for you. I was right as well - you should have left well alone."

"So what now?" I said bluntly, turning away from the pathetic old man who stood before me, and facing the Whispering.

The creature took a few deep breaths before replying- oh, how weak it was! How close we had been! It didn't even look like a child anymore- the pale face was distorted, the proportions muddled. The eyes were two black holes, staring helplessly. Finally, it replied, wheezing.

"I must rest..." it said. "I can't kill you myself...I need...need my strength for later...when I _will_ kill. Robson will do it."

I stared at him in horror. Robson too wheeled around, his mouth hanging open.

"What?" he sputtered. "No! That wasn't the deal. Lock her in here and let her die of thirst! That was the deal!"

"Oh, thanks." I muttered.

The Whispering turned to Robson. "Two plans. You kill them all now, quickly. Or I will expose you to the white noise as well. You will join them up here, and you will all die together."

"Then so be it." Robson said. "You will _never_ get me to kill these youngsters in cold blood. Never! That was _not_ our deal!"

The Whispering laughed. "You want to forget, Mr. Robson? Then do as I ask."

"Robson, it's playing on an empty hand!" I insisted. "Look at it! It's exhausted! It can't do anything to us, and it can't use the white noise again. It will destroy itself unless it stops soon. Don't do this!"

"Don't listen to her," it cried, "Do what I tell you!"

Robson shuffled towards me. He was going to kill me! I tried to get up, but my legs were still utterly lifeless. "Guys!" I screamed, trying to rouse the gang. They were conscious- yet obviously they'd been exposed to the white-noise more than me- the Whispering had wanted to talk to me of course- it had no interest in the others. They gazed up at the ceiling, murmuring indistinctly. Unaware of anything that was happening.

Robson towered over me now, ready to kill. He knelt down beside me...it was over. I closed my eyes. There was nothing to be done.

Except...

"Play along." he whispered to me, so softly I couldn't hear at first.

"Play along!" he repeated, a little louder. I nodded discreetly. The Whispering was still standing there, watching. But it didn't really seem to be seeing anymore. The failing figure of the child stood stock still, throbbing in and out of existence. It was almost asleep...almost...

Robson took his chance- throwing himself towards the creature, with impressive speed for a man his age, he struck it. The boy instantly swelled into the young man. For a moment, it's strength was back. It slammed Robson into the wall, his false teeth flying out. He collapsed in a heap.  
"I warned you I wasn't spent!" it growled. Then, it cried out in pain. I stared, as it span around on the spot. For a moment, I couldn't see what was wrong- then I did. I saw the knife jutting into the young man's back. The knife that Lauren had thrown at it.

She stumbled into the room, gazing from us, to the Whispering, to Robson in shock. The Whispering, regaining it's composure, pulled the knife from it's back, and threw it at Lauren. But it's throw was now so weak, it's aim so very poor, that it fell far short of her.

"Howle!" It whined, backing away from her. For the first time I realized the truth- the Whispering was _scared_ of Lauren. Terrified. The young man shrunk back to the boy- it's defence mechanism. Look and sound like an innocent child, and even those who knew what it really was would find it hard to hurt it...but why was it _so_ scared of her? Why?

I tried to get up again, but my legs were no better. That was when I understood!

The white noise. The Whispering's ultimate weapon...and here was a girl who was immune to it. Utterly immune. She couldn't hear it!

But we could.

"Come closher and I'll use the white noise!" It promised her. "I'll kill them this time! I'll kill them!"

"It's over." Lauren said, simply. She walked steadily towards the Whispering, and I noticed that one of her arms was broken. She swayed as she walked, but her face was set- she wasn't going to keel over now.

My chest tightened. The noise had started again...I held my ears tight shut, but the other guys were comatose- they couldn't. Lauren, unaffected, simply carried on walking towards it. The Whispering stuttered watching in terror as the tiny, injured young woman walked relentlessly towards it, unstoppable. It was too weak to attack her physically now. Too weak to do anything. The noise stopped. Suddenly, the dogs were up. All five of them! They were standing up, growling at the little boy. Scooby included. Quickly, he grew back into the large young man, hoping to scare them. It failed. They pounced on him as a pack, clinging onto him with their jaws. He spun around, screaming- trying to throw them off. But they were having none of it. I felt my legs come back to life, and stood up shakily- but why weren't Fred, Velma and Shaggy coming round? I tried to rouse them, but to no avail.

My panic was interrupted by a deafening shriek. The dogs had stopped attacking. The Whispering was taking on the shape of the boy again, trying his most cowardly tactic again. I stood up, standing next to Lauren. The dogs formed a semi-circle behind us. Cowering on the floor before us, the Whispering sobbed and scrabbled to get away. Spent.

"You killed my big sister." I said to it, my voice calm and steady, my mind clear. "And Lauren's boyfriend. No doubt you foresaw Lauren a long time ago, foresaw that her name and your own demise were linked. The white-noise doesn't work on her- you can't control her, and you can't hurt her."

"Change." Lauren mumbled. "Change back to the man."

The Whispering stared at her, sniveling and shaking. And fading. In and out of existence.

"Do it!" Lauren bellowed, raising her hand above her head, as if to hit the boy. Cowering in fear, the Whispering did exactly that. He morphed -slowly now, oh so slowly- into the younger man.

"Good." Lauren said, and - with more strength than I would ever have expected of her - kicked him in the jaw, hard.  
The helpless creature screamed. A coward to the end, it turned back into the boy, desperate to avoid another kick...desperate to get away. Not this time.

It looked at us both helplessly, through two pleading little child's eyes. But those eyes were now fading back into two black holes. It opened it's mouth- the teeth were gone, as was the tongue. The old smock became less detailed, less patterned. It managed to speak -

 _"D...do you hear...the w...w...whispering..._

 _The wh...whispering is near..._

 _If you hear it say your n...name..._

 _It means we're getting...n...n...near..."_

There was very little left of the boy now- he tried to continue singing, his voice crackling and fading. Dark, gaseous matter poured from his open mouth, his empty eyes.

"p...power." It stuttered. Then, with a high pitched scream, it exploded into a cloud of gas. It flew up, smashing through the overhead window. Me and Lauren looked up, watching it continue upwards. Up towards the stars. We watched until it was a tiny pin-prick against the clear night sky, travelling away from us. Far, far away from us. We gazed at each other, our similar eyes meeting.

"It's gone." I said softly.

Lauren nodded. A groan from behind us made us jump- Velma, Shaggy and Scooby. All awake!

"Guys!" I gasped, running over to them. "It's over, guys. It's done."

Then my blood turned to ice. They couldn't move their legs.

And they didn't- for at least an hour we waited, tearful and frightened- what if they wouldn't walk? What if the white noise had done them permanent damage? What would they do? The dogs were fine! I was fine! Why weren't they? It was as if something was holding them back, preventing them from recovering. They didn't recover, in fact, until Shaggy admitted, turning a fantastic red, that he was deeply attracted to Lauren- perhaps in love. Just like that, they were able to get up, all three of them at the same time. I can't explain it, and I can't understand it. I can only say that it happened exactly that way- as if the heartfelt admission were a key, unlocking their legs- extinguishing the Whispering's last grip on this world. Coincidence, or something more? Who could say?

Robson was alive. He came round shortly after the Whispering deprived us of it's company.

"Forgive me, Daphne," he pleaded. "You were right...I was scared. I am scared. But I'm no killer."

"I know." I said bluntly. "But it's gone. You don't need to be scared any more. Goodbye, Mr. Robson."

We left him where he lay. He'd be found soon enough, and I had nothing more to say to him. True, he didn't kill me. But he'd been prepared to allow my death, and the deaths of my friends. His last minute change of heart redeemed him a little, but it was over now. I truly had nothing more to say to him. It's that simple.

We limped from the attic, bloody, bruised and shellshocked. Shaggy was half-carrying Lauren, who's adrenaline had long since pumped away. The pain of her shattered arm had caught up with her, and her face was pale and faint. We all felt very sick- the aftershock of the white noise, perhaps.

Coming out of the retirement home was a shock as well- there _were_ fire crews, and the residents _were_ all sitting in the evacuation spot in the car park. Yet everyone, firefighters, nurses and residents alike, were sleeping soundly. Even as we watched, they began to stir, the Whispering's power fading. We quickly walked away. We were never here. Too many awkward questions.

The sun was rising by the time we got to the hospital. Lauren's arm obviously needed attention, and Velma suggested we all have a check up- just in case. I simply sat in the Mystery Machine, while everyone else got out. Fred, noticing me, held back. "Go on." he whispered to the others. "Go get cleaned up." They did.

He sat beside me and he shut the door.  
"Let it go." he said to me gently.

I did. Tears poured down my cheeks. "We did good, didn't we?"

Fred nodded. " _You_ did good, Daph. I didn't do anything."

"Me and Lauren." I corrected him.

"Yeah," he replied gently. "Lauren as well. That would be something else if her and Shaggy got together, huh?"

"She won't." I said sadly. "Not for quite a while, anyway. Even if she does like him, she's still grieving for Clifford."

"Yes...are you still grieving, Daphne? Truthfully?"

"I don't know, Freddie. I always thought that getting rid of it would...well, I dunno...I wasn't expecting it to bring her back, I'm not an idiot. I just thought I'd feel some closure, that's all."

Fred pulled me close and kissed me on the top of my head. "You don't need closure, Daphne. This wasn't revenge, what we did. We did it because it had to be done- we did it to save lives."

"Yeah."

"One thing I was wondering though- so it kills five days after a tragedy. That was today, and we stopped that. But who would it have killed?" Fred asked.

"No idea." I replied simply. "It wouldn't say. Probably nobody we know, just some poor random victim like Dawn."

"Fair enough. I guess it don't matter now we've killed it. I mean, it is...it is dead, isn't it, Daph?"  
I shrugged. "I don't know if it was ever alive. Not in the sense that you and me are. But we hurt it Fred. We hurt it badly. I think the creature itself is dead. The thing that we saw. But the Whispering itself...I don't know if that can be killed, Freddie."

Fred stared at me. "But we've cut off it's connection with our world, right?"

I nodded. "Hopefully. But I'm not concerned about it coming back here, Fred."

"No?" he said, surprised. "Are you honestly not scared of it, Daphne?"

"I'm not." I replied. "It's scared of us. Now come on- let's catch up with the others."

Four hours later, we tumbled into Mystery Inc HQ. Five people, five dogs. It was all still here- our little home. All at once, we collapsed onto the sofa, hugging each other tightly. We'd taken on impossible odds, and we'd won. Outside, the sun shone brightly across Coolsville, a city now safer than it had ever been before.

 **Note: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's by far the longest I've ever written for a fanfiction, so I'm feeling a little burned out now!**

 **Any reviews, whether praise or criticism, are more than welcome. More chapters to come soon, the story isn't quite over yet! :D**

 **PS - in case anyone was wondering, Shaggy's cousin Rufus isn't a character from any of the TV series, he's my own, from a previous fic (How Not To Solve A Mystery).**


	16. Two Weeks Later

**Daphne**

There was no murder that day. Day five, the fifth day after the explosion at Boccino Heights. The pattern was always the same- a catastrophe, followed by a brutal murder five days later. A brutal, unsolved murder. Like Dawn's, although of course me and the gang knew the truth about that. Likely we'd be the only ones who ever would. But this time, it hadn't happened. It had been stopped- we stopped it. Me, four other people and a handful of dogs; we'd stood up in the face of impossible odds, and we'd won. Somewhere deep down, I felt proud of that. I suppose I was entitled to. But really, all we'd done was solve a mystery- that's what we do. We never ask to be thanked, and we don't do it for fame or self-satisfaction. We do it because usually, it's the right thing to do. That's all.

I would have loved to have told my folks about what had happened. To finally, finally offer an explanation about Dawn's death. To tell them that justice was done, and the killer beaten. But I couldn't. I couldn't tell them about it, for a very simple reason.

I couldn't remember much of it at all. None of us could.

We could remember the story. A nightmare creature killed Dawn Blake, my elder sister. It killed Lauren's boyfriend in an explosion. We went to that old people's home (I couldn't remember the name) to destroy it. We had defeated it, even if we hadn't destroyed it...there was an old man there. What was his name? I can't remember for the life of me.

What I _do_ remember is almost like a dream. Like it happened to somebody else. I _know_ it happened. I _know_ we did all those things...but the actual _doing_ , I can't recall. Anything we said or did in that place has faded. It didn't happen immediately. I'm sure that for the first couple of days, I remembered everything. But since then...it's just gone. Like a dream. You might wake up remembering everything, but it doesn't last. I wonder if it's not finished yet- might it _all_ fade before long? I doubt it. Dawn will always be gone- and that's how I'll hold onto some memories of what happened, however vague they might be. Lauren will do the same, she lost Clifford. But as for the others...

"I think we'll forget." Velma said to me one evening. We were out for dinner at the local fast food joint. All five of us. The dogs were back at HQ.

"But why?" Fred exclaimed, "Why are we forgetting? _How_ are we forgetting?"

"Well, it didn't stay a secret for hundreds of years just by coincidence, Fred." Velma said, sounding patronizing. She couldn't help it. "I imagine that this is what happens...it fades away. That's why it kept coming after Daphne- she didn't forget. She held on to the knowledge for months, even when we all thought she was delusional."

I raised my eyebrows. "But now..."

"Now, I think it will fade again. I don't even remember what it was. What it looked like, what it was called...it's all gone."

"Good." Fred said sharply. "We did what we needed to do. Whatever it was we _did_ do. It's over."

"But there is one thing we all remember, isn't there." I whispered. "Whatever did happen, we didn't kill it. We can all agree on that."

We exchanged an uncomfortable glance.  
"Like, are you sure?" Shaggy said hopefully. "I mean-"

"-It looked like a boy." Lauren interrupted. Not rudely- she hadn't noticed Shaggy was speaking. "Sometimes. That's all I remember of it. It was there at Boccino Heights, the night he died...I think that's why I can still remember that."

We nodded. Somewhere, deep down in my subconscious, a small boy with a malicious grin floated up through my memories- very briefly. Then he was gone again. But Lauren was right. For the moment at least, I could remember that.

Speaking of Lauren...

"Have you had any thoughts about...what we asked?" I said to her.

She stared at me for a moment- golly, she looked like me! Well, how I hoped to look in five years or so anyway. Then she smiled sadly. "Thanks..." she replied slowly. "But no."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "We'd love you on the team! You saved our lives I think. You-"

She held a hand up, stopping me in my tracks. "No." she repeated, firmly. "I hope we can stay friends, all of us. But this isn't for me. Besides...Mystery Inc is you four, and Scooby Doo. That's how it's always been, since the day you started, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"You don't need me."

"But we want her!" Shaggy insisted, turning red. Vaguely, I seem to remember him declaring his full and unquestioning love for her that night. By the color his cheeks were turning, I think he could still remember that as well.

I smiled. "Shaggy says we want you, though." I told her. It occurred to me just then, we all understood her perfectly now. Even when she spoke quickly. Her voice hadn't changed. We had.

Lauren turned to him. One look on her face told me that she too remembered that detail- but her expression wasn't that of disgust, nor pity. She liked him well enough- she might even love him one day. But she looked at him sadly. As if to say "not yet." It was too soon for her. Maybe one day, things would be different.

"I'm honored. But no."

I nodded. "Fair enough." I conceded. "Will you be all right though?"

She shrugged. "Eventually I hope." she said. She'd been staying with her mom, still unable to face going back to her own flat. The flat she'd once shared with the man she loved.

Velma cleared her throat, "Before we head off, team...this is important."

We looked at her expectantly. She continued;

"Daphne is right- we don't _know_ it's over. I guess your right Daph, you and Lauren will remember it most. If the rest of us do forget it all, then let us. I think the boys agree with that." Beside her, Fred and Shaggy nodded. "But I want both of you to promise us this; if it ever starts again...if either of you ever you think it's come back, you tell us. You make us remember. Don't try to solve it on your own. Agreed?"

"I promise." I said solemnly. Lauren nodded in agreement.

"I think we'll always remember the fear." Fred murmured. "We'll never forget it entirely."

"I guess not." Shaggy said.

I stood up. Suddenly, I'd had enough. Enough of fear, enough of anger. And right now, there was a movie on at the multiplex in the city center- a comedy film with smash-hit reviews. "Your sides will be splitting," one of them read. "You will ache with laughter," another promised. I glanced at my watch- a quarter to one. We could make the showing in an hour if we hurried. We'd go in as early as possible so that Velma could make us all laugh with her sarcastic remarks about all of the rubbish commercials- one of her favourite hobbies.

"Movies." I said sternly- not inviting them along, but instructing them. "Now."

We left. A cool breeze ticked my face, and I realised that the weather was cooling down again. Soon it would be a year since...no. I wasn't going to think about that. I would never forget Dawn, but nor did I want the memory of her to be a sad one. She had been a wonderful young woman and an even better big sister- that's how I was going to remember her.

As for the fear...

But it's not back, I told myself. Hopefully it never will be. I can not and will not allow myself to live in fear of that day until it happens. If ever it happens. It hasn't yet. I hope it won't. Oh, I hope it won't.

My train of thought broke of it's own accord. Suddenly, I was back. Back among friends, on a cool yet wonderfully sunny day. I smiled.

Shortly afterwards, Velma told a joke. For the first time in a long time, I found myself laughing.


	17. 28 Years Ago, and What George Did

**George Blake**

 **28 Years Ago, The Grasshopper Bar**

 _"Blake!" Phil the bartender called. "George Blake! Get yerself over here, boy. Telephone."_

 _I grunted. "S'cuse me guys." I grumbled, stumbling as I stood up. Too much whiskey- and not just any whiskey. Phil Dolan's strongest Irish whiskey. I staggered over to the bar, where Phil stood, holding the telephone impatiently._

 _"Know who it is?" I asked weakly._

 _"Yer wife, so it is." He laughed. "Got a right temper on at that."_

 _"Right." I took the phone from the disapproving Irishman, and held the receiver to my ear._

 _"Liz...what's up?"_

 _"Your drunk, ain't you?" came the shrill voice of my wife down the phone. I held the receiver a little farther from my ear._

 _"What's it to you?"_

 _"I'm your wife, you pig!" she screeched. "How much have you **had**?"_

 _"Not much." I lied, wholly unconvincingly._

 _"Your drunk, ain't you?" she repeated._

 _"Too right I'm drunk. Now is there anything else before I hang up?"_

 _"Yeah. Don't bother coming home tonight."_

 _"It's my house, woman!" I yelled down the line angrily. "I'll come home just as soon as I want, and you can't stop me."_

 _"I can. You forgot your house keys. I've got them here right now." With that, she hung up._

 _I swore softly- and half the bar heard. A quick search of my pockets confirmed that she was telling the truth- I had forgotten my keys. Well what of it? I'd stay round Terry's again, if he'd have me. If not, I'd book into a hotel. I had the money. Oh, I had money all right. But it wasn't enough for Liz, was it? It never, ever was!_

 _Phil came over and took the phone from me. "Catch yerself on, George. I'll kick ye all out if I have to, so I will. Understand?"_

 _"We're leaving anyway." I replied. "One more drink, and we're gone."_

 _"Nothing doing." Phil replied firmly. "Take ye custom elsewhere, and don't come back. Not until ye've sobered up."_

 _"Fine." I snapped, stumbling away from the bar, back to the corner table that myself, Dave, Jack and Terry infested. All four of us drunk beyond belief. Again._

 _"C'mon guys." I slurred. "Let's go."_

 _We staggered from the bar, out into the bitterly cold night._

 _We should, of course, have called it a night and gone home- or, in my case, to yet another night in Terry's spare room. But we didn't do that. Oh no. We walked the short distance along the street to the next bar, and drank some more. Then, when they threw us out of there, we moved further along to the next one._

 _It was the fourth bar we visited that was where it happened._

 _In the third bar, security had to take us out. We staggered to the fourth, trying to act sober in front of the doormen. We succeeded. Oh, how I wish they'd turned us away. How I wish that._

 _But they didn't._

 _My buddies collapsed into some seats, and I went to get the drinks- only fair, considering I was by far the richest out of us four. By far._

 _I collapsed against the bar, feeling tired and dizzy. "Here!" I called to the nearest barmaid, rudely. I felt bad- "sorry..." I slurred. "Didn't mean to be rude." I looked up- there wasn't even a barmaid there. Crikey I was drunk!_

 _A young woman was standing a little way down the bar, equally unable to get served- there weren't enough staff. Blimey, she was cute! Proper cute! I slid along the bar to stand next to her. "Hey." I said softly. "Enjoying yourself?"_

 _"I guess." she said. "Surely you aren't drinking more?"_

 _"I am!" I replied enthusiastically. "Can I buy you one?"_

 _"Why thank you!" she said, smiling. She exchanged a hand. "Daisy."_

 _"George Blake...Daisy what?"_

 _"Just Daisy. Don't want you looking up my phone number now, do I?"_

 _"Why not?" I slurred loudly. "I own my own business, y'know. Earn a lot I do."_

 _"Is that so?" she replied, sounding disinterested. "Are they your friends?" she asked, pointing over at Terry, Dave and Jack. Terry had just eaten the contents of a salt shaker, and was now desparatley coughing and gagging, while the other two rolled around in hysterics. Everyone around them watched in disgust. Three slobs. Not the kind of guys you want to admit you are friends with._

 _"Those clowns? Not a chance!" I insisted, turning pink, now watching Terry swallow the pepper from the pepper shaker._

 _"I saw you come in with them."_

 _"Yeah, they just met me earlier, that's all. I didn't want to be rude, so I walked with them a little way."_

 _"Right." she said. "Look, you seem nice. But your married."_

 _I gaped at her- how did she know?_

 _"Only officially." I said glumly. "There's no future for me and her."_

 _"So why do you still wear that?" Daisy asked, pointing at my wedding ring- oh yeah...that's how she knew._

 _"Well, I...I..."_

 _"You love her."_

 _"Too right I do."_

 _"So go home to her. I'm flattered that you came to talk to me, but you are a married man, George Blake. You need to work on a marriage- if it isn't working, sort it out. This isn't the way."_

 _Suddenly, I welled up. "We just argue all the time..." I moaned, desperate tears rolling down my cheeks. "I work flat out, and we've got all this money, but-"_

 _"Stop!" Daisy said firmly. "There we go, George- there's the problem?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"You said it yourself- you work flat out. You earn a lot of money, right?"_

 _"Right!"_

 _"And when, may I ask, do you spend quality time with Mrs. Blake?"_

 _"Well, I..."_

 _"Maybe she doesn't want your money- maybe she wants you. Ever thought of that?"_

 _"I..."_

 _"Yeah. I rest my case. Go home, George Blake."_

 _It made sense. And if the barmaid had come just ten seconds later, I'd have been gone. I'd have thanked Daisy sincerely, and left her some money for a drink. I'd have gone home, leaving my idiot friends to their drunken pleasure. I'd have hammed on the door until Liz let me in, and we'd stay up all night to sort this out- it all seemed to easy. But maybe that was because I'd had way too much._

 _Either way, that's not how it happened. Because the barmaid came over when she did. And I had one more drink, buying one for Daisy as well. One more drink turned into ten. For both of us. We left the bar after that, bidding farewell to my three friends. As we were leaving, Terry stood up and took me to one side for a moment._

 _"George...look, don't do anything you'll regret, all right?" he said to me urgently._

 _I promised him that I wouldn't. Then I left him and the other two._

 _And I broke that promise._

 _It wasn't Daisy's fault. She was intoxicated beyond belief._ I'd _intoxicated her. It was my fault. But we liked each other, we liked each other so much that for the next six months, we saw each other often, behind Elizabeth's back. It only ended when Daisy left Coolsville. Enough was enough._

 _"I've got to, George." she said simply. "I'm not proud of what we've done together. Not at all."_

 _"Nor I." I admitted. I'd been getting on better with Elizabeth than ever before recently- our marriage was back on track, in everyone's eyes. But it wasn't...not really._

 _"I need to get out of Coolsville. It's all wrong, George. Can't you feel it?"_

 _"Feel what?" I replied glumly._

 _"This city. There's something very, very wrong with it. I knew that the day I moved here. It's why I have to leave now."_

 _And she did. I never saw her again._

 _Perhaps I went a tiny, tiny way to redeeming myself at the end of this sorry, shameful chapter of my life- I told Liz everything that very same day, hours after Daisy left, for the neighboring city of Ironport._

 _"I'm so, so sorry..." I whispered to Liz, as she sat before me, fury in her eyes. Fury, but no real shock. That made me feel even worse. How long had she known- suspected? How long?_

 _"Wow." she said simply. "I knew you were a pig George, but..."_

 _"If you want me to leave, I'll go." I promised. "Please Liz...I never wanted to hurt you. Not really...please don't hate me."_

 _"I love you." she replied. "But I've disliked you for a very long time. I'd love nothing better than for you to leave and never return. But things aren't that simple."_

 _"What is it?" I said._

 _She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled my hand towards her stomach. I stared at her...surely not..._

 _"Understand?" she said to me, looking at me like I was scum. Which I was. Which I am. "You've got a year." she told me. "Quit the drink for good. Stop smoking. Be a good father to our baby. There_ might _be a way back for us._ _I'm going to give you one year and only one year, George. Do you understand?"_

 _I agreed that I did._

 _And we did find our way back. Not quickly. Very, very slowly. Elizabeth found it in her massive heart to forgive me, but I would never forgive myself. However, we found our way back. We had five beautiful daughters. We were happy._

 _But even today, I can't forgive myself. I don't think I ever will. Because there's something I still haven't told her..._


	18. Two Years Later, and what Daphne Knows

**Daphne**

So what _do_ I remember? That's the question I asked myself, on the second anniversary of Dawn's death.

I lay in bed, unable to doze off. There was a storm raging outside, and the weather was unseasonably warm for October. I couldn't get comfortable.

But back to the question- what do I remember? Very little, is the answer.

I remember the day she died in so much detail that it could have been two hours ago, not two whole years. I remember the pain. I remember seeing her in hospital, still and pale, her eyes torn from her head. I remember the anger. And I also remember what the anger had eventually led me to conclude- Dawn had been murdered by some sort of monster.

I remember we defeated it. I remember that we met Lauren Howle during that time. But how? Where? Why? Looking back, I vaguely remember a hospital...she'd been hurt. We stayed friends with Lauren for a while after it all happened anyway. But we hadn't spoken in a few months now. After me, she probably got on best with Shaggy (who in turn, was smitten with her), and me and her still chat by text now and again, but like our memories of the time, the friendship just sort of fizzled out. Sad really. Maybe I'd hit her up again soon, go for a coffee or something. Shaggy can come. He'd love to. The others as well if they want.

I remember some old guy as well- Roberts? Robins? Who knows- I liked him, I remember that. But he'd done something on the day we defeated it, didn't he...something bad. He'd betrayed us somehow...I don't know. I wonder what became of the guy. I have a hunch he's still alive, and a rather uncomfortable hunch I'll see him again.

Because it isn't over. Not at all.

As I look back over my faint memories (the others remember nothing at all, so far as I know, with the exception of Lauren), I've been thinking. You know, I think I've worked it out- I can't remember anything about the creature we beat (but most certainly _did not_ destroy). I think I've worked out what it was-

It was Coolsville. That's what I think. The city had felt fresher since the day we dealt with it (quite where that confrontation took place, I've no idea). The air has been cleaner, the weather more pleasant, even the people in the streets seem healthier...it's as though the whole town had been sick before, but nobody noticed. However, I sure as anything noticed the improvement afterwards. I think perhaps everyone did, even if they didn't know or understand why.

But it still isn't over. I know it's coming back.

I know it. I don't know when, I don't know how. I don't know why. I just know it will happen at some point. Maybe it's the very fact I'm lying here now, thinking about it all for the first time in ages. Maybe I'm having some sort of premonition. Or maybe it's just common sense- it didn't die that night (was it night?), which means it's still out there. Angry. Waiting. It's like how I've known for years that my father has been unfaithful to my mother in the past- nobody has told me. It's supposed to be a secret. Certainly, they've moved on. They get on wonderfully together, they love each other. But I just...know. It's not that I'm a clairvoyant (I don't think), it's just that I _know_...they are always so guarded when it comes to talking about the past.

And I know it's coming back. It isn't finished until _it_ is finished. Maybe it's reaching out to me from wherever we banished it...warning me, mocking me...who knows?

As I finally drifted off, I became certain of something- it was definetley time to contact Lauren again. Maybe she felt the same. Maybe we can remember more together, remember how to kill it for good if it does return.

Which it will.


	19. The Night Before The Morning After

**Daphne Blake**

The Whispering, which would return to terrorize Coolsville for two final days, and terrorize me for the next sixty-five million years, came back on a cold, windy night in early November, over a year after we banished it from our world.

That evening, around the same time that my father was receiving some very bad news, and around the same time that Lauren was visiting a neighbor, me and the gang were staking out Rancher's Lot. You might think that it's a restaurant with a name like that. You'd think wrong. It was, in actual fact, a modern office block. A very fine office block at that. All glass on the outside, and as clean and modern as you could wish for on the inside. A good place to work.

That work was, so we were told, the video games industry. Looking around the place, I could believe that. At first glance, it was a normal, boring office. Nine-til-five, but you'll have to stay until seven, thank-you very much. With no overtime pay, obviously. Official meetings regarding work in the boardroom at the head of the office space, and unofficial meetings regarding anything but work at the water cooler, which stood (conveniently) just by the entrance, out of sight of the boss's office. I felt like an intruder, and not just because we were alone in here well after dark. I tried to picture myself some day, putting on a smart blouse, getting in at eight (nine-til-five is often the biggest lie going). Sitting down in front of a computer five days a week, doing...well, something. I couldn't imagine what. Looking around, I knew one thing- this kind of job wasn't for me. This kind of life is something that happens only yards from my home- there's offices near Mystery Inc HQ. Every day I see people, suited and booted, going into work to do exactly what they did the previous day...it was so close, yet at the same time, it was so far away. So far from what I wanted out of life. My daddy worked in an office, of course. As his own boss, which I suppose makes it more bearable. He wanted me to have the same sort of career. I knew that. But I didn't want it. Life with Mystery Inc was challenging. Dangerous, at times-

 ** _-like what happened last year. It's coming back, and even the other won't be able to help you-_**

\- but what my father simply couldn't comprehend was how rewarding it was. Actually helping people. Actually making a difference. That was what I really wanted from life. Not getting bleary-eyed and fat in front of a computer screen all day. Sometimes, I wish he understood that better.

But then _this_ office wasn't strictly like that. There were, dotted here and there, a few hints of fun. Nerf guns, gaming posters (not really my thing, but to each their own), and even a Playstation or X-Box (I couldn't tell the difference.) Not bad for an office, really. Well, except from the robot.

The robot...it had been causing a bit of trouble, to say the least. Computers smashed. Electricity shut off. It had flooded the bathrooms on four occasions. Nobody had been hurt, but the place had been closed for over a week now...the games company was losing money rapidly, and we were- so they said- the last hope of solving the case.

Well, we'd try our best. It was just me and Fred right now- Velma had elected to go with Shaggy and Scooby for a change. They'd found a clue already, some sort of high-powered battery pack in the janitor's closet. Something that might power a robot...if it _was_ a robot. My guess was that it was the culprit in disguise, and the battery pack a decoy, planted to frame the janitor. He was an obvious suspect, that janitor. Too obvious.

The clue didn't point to the janitor, in my opinion. No, it pointed to somebody with a personal grudge against the janitor, as well as a wider grudge against the company. I couldn't think of any such person...but I'm sure that even now, Velma's mind was working overtime, piecing the puzzle together. I'm sure she knew who the culprit was already, or suspected it at least. Solving a mystery was different to her- for the rest of us, it was a case of working towards the end goal of discovering the identity of the bad guy. To Velma, it was different. To her, it was a case of knowing who the bad guy was, and working towards the end goal of proving it.

As ever, it was only a matter of time. We'd solve the case, and we'd get paid. Then, we'd go home. Weary, slightly shaken if things turned nasty, maybe mildly hurt...but essentially fine. A normal case.

But there was one interesting fact about this particular case, something that became utterly crucial to this, the second and final part of my battle with the Whispering- the janitor that I've spoken of was actually someone known to us. Not in a good way.

Let me park the story here for a moment- me and Freddie are creeping around an office on the first floor looking (unsuccessfully) for clues, while the others are downstairs, having more luck, by the sounds of it. Let's pause that there for now, and rewind a little, back to when we first arrived at The Rancher's Lot earlier this evening...

/

 _"Welcome, welcome." Mr. Bateman said happily, shaking each of our hands firmly, bouncing with enthusiasm. He even offered his hand to Scooby, who raised his paw in delight. Often, people took him to be our guard dog, which was categorically untrue of course. He was as harmless as a newborn puppy, in spite of his size and strength. But outsiders didn't know that. A lot were reluctant to approach him._

 _"Good boy!" Mr. Bateman squealed in delight as Scooby merrily placed a large front paw in his hand. He ruffled Scooby's head affectionately. "He's a big boy, ain't he! What's his name?"_

 _"Scooby Dooby Doo!" Scooby barked in reply._

 _Bateman looked uncertainly at Scooby, wondering if he could have possibly heard what he thought he had...wondering if the dog had just spoken. Me and Shaggy exchanged a smirk. Bateman, clearly deciding his ears must have deceived him, shrugged it off and continued._

 _"Anyhow..." he began. He was a short man, rather overweight, his skin pockmarked and greasy looking. Pale too. His hair was oily black and styled in a fashion I can only describe as terrible. This was, I recognized, a hardcore gamer. A man who spent his working life developing games and his free time playing them. He wore a black t-shirt with some sort of logo on the front, and a pair of jeans which fit his cumbersome legs like a sausage skin. I noticed a wedding ring gleaming on his finger, and a nasty judgmental part of me was a little surprised. I shouldn't have been surprised- in spite of his unkempt appearance, he donned a permanent smile, and I liked him already- what an amicable and jolly guy he seemed. Easy to like, and easy, I suspected, to fall in love with...providing you too loved games._

 _"Anyhow...", he continued, "the trouble started about four weeks ago. Thereabouts, anyway. I was working late you see, trying to finish the last level of "Beyond the Sky." That's our new game. Any of you into video games?"_

 _Shaggy raised his hand. Fred shrugged awkwardly- the honest answer was "yes", but unlike Shaggy, he was shy of his love of video games. Maybe he thought them uncool, but every guy our age that I knew played them. I didn't understand his problem.  
_

 _"Ah good!" Bateman grinned, now talking to Shaggy. "Then you'll understand what I mean by "off the map?" Well, this last level on this game we've made, there's a part near the end where you can fall through the floor of the map. Course, you know what happens when you fall off the map in a game?"_

 _"You keep falling." Shaggy replied. "Forever, unless the game is programmed to prevent that."_

 _"Right. Well our's is not. And trouble is, once you've been falling further and further into nothingness on a game, your console is liable to crash, and there's always a small risk that when a console crashes, it will be ruined for good. That's all we need- a bunch of people suing us because our game destroyed their consoles."_

 _"Mr. Bateman." Velma said softly, before Shaggy could respond with more game-related talk. "I can't fault your enthusiasm, but we'd really just like to hear about the trouble you've been having."_

 _I was inwardly very grateful to Velma- give professional gamers half a chance, and they'll happily spend hours chatting about their favourite games. I used to sit next to a guy in high school who was exactly like that._

 _"Yeah, right." Bateman said, looking a little deflated. "Right, well I was just sitting in my office, busy patching the glitch up. This was like ten at night I'll have you know. I was totally alone, aside from the janitor of course. But he was downstairs. Then suddenly, I get a knock at the door. Well, as you can imagine, I jumped right out of my recliner chair-"_

 _"-you've got a recliner chair in your office?" Fred asked incredulously. Velma shot him a nasty look._

 _"Yeah, man..." Bateman continued, barely pausing for breath. "So I said to myself, well this is right weird, ain't it? I'm the boss of my department, I am. If anyone stays late, I know about it. Nobody was staying late that night, except me. And I already knew that_ I _was there! So I says to myself, well maybe it's Wolfie - the janitor, that is. So that's when I open the door, and it ain't Wolfie, that's for sure. It's some massive great metal dude! So I scream at that point. I'm thinking, well Marcus, your number is up, ain't it...this is it. I've played my last video game, cashed my last check. I'm-"_

 _"Mr. Bateman..." Velma repeated tensely. "I'm sorry to be so rude, sir. But please try and stick to the facts."_

 _"Right, right." Bateman said, mopping his sweaty brow. "Sorry, I just get a bit carried away when I'm excited. So yeah, I'm expecting to die right enough. This thing was massive, I kid you not. But it didn't lay a finger on me. Not one. What it_ did _do was smash my office to pieces."_

 _"All right." Velma said. "That's normal, for cases like this. Our experience is that usually, the person responsible doesn't actually want anyone hurt. Usually."_

 _"Oh...oh good. But still...it can't go on, Miss. Dimbly. It's just impossible to work with the disruption. It blocked the toilets last week you know! That was the final straw. Horrible mess. Poor janitor had to-"_

 _"Yeah, we might like to see this janitor." Velma interrupted. "In fact, we would like to see this janitor. Is he still here at all?"_

 _"Yeah, yeah. He's in his office. Come on, I'll take ya'll to meet him." He span around on the spot and bounded off down the lobby at speed, leaving us where we stood. Me and the gang exchanged a glance._

 _"Do we follow him, or..." Fred looked from us to Bateman uncertainly._

 _He wheeled round. "Oh, yes, yes. Come on, follow me."_

 _"Just coming now, sir." Velma chuckled._

 _/_

Which we did. Imagine our surprise when we were introduced to "Wolfie" the janitor, who transpired to be the culprit behind one of our previous cases- Wolfgang Smith, leader of the Iron Giants criminal gang, a group of thugs who terrorized the city for years, before we put a stop to it. But that's another story. He wasn't best pleased to see us, that's for sure.

/

 _"You!" Wolfgang Smith exclaimed, his dark eyes narrowing in disgust as we entered._

 _"You!" We gasped, equally unhappy._

 _"Why d'you bring this lot in, Marcus?" Wolfgang asked Mr. Bateman angrily. "Come on man! You know we've got history."_

 _"I'll say!" I said aggressively, "How come they let you out? Your gang-"_

 _"-Yeah, yeah, I know all about what my gang got up to while I were I jail." Wolfie remarked. "But that weren't nothing to do with me. Anyhow, the gang fell apart years ago now. You know that."_

 _"But what are you doing here?" Fred asked him suspiciously._

 _"What does it look like I'm "doing here" you idiot? You think I hang out in a janitor's closet, wearing a janitor's uniform, for fun d'you? I'm working you pillock."_

 _"Working?" I repeated incredulously._

 _"Look, I got clean, all right?" Wolfgang snapped. "In jail, I mean. I got some qualifications. The gang was long finished by the time I got out last year. I ain't the man I was, right? And you lot haven't got any right coming back into m'life now, let alone try and blame me for something I ain't done."_

 _"Like, yeah...but it's fishy isn't it?" Shaggy exclaimed. "That you're here at the same time there's another mystery to be solved."_

 _"Yes." Velma said simply. "Too fishy."_

 _We stared at her._

 _"Well, come on...the janitor, a former convict with a history of these types of crimes...the perfect scapegoat, isn't he?"_

 _"Like poor, hideous old man Wickles!" I exclaimed, suddenly rather ashamed of myself- whatever Wolfie Smith had done in the past (or whatever his gang might have done), surely people can change?_ _Maybe he had._

 _"Look, Mr. Smith. To be frank, I've already got a few suspects in mind, and none of them are you. You've got no motive. You are way too obvious. Let's let the past be, huh? If we can get to the bottom of this, you'll be totally in the clear again. All right?"_

 _For an answer, he barged past me and Fred. "Fine." he snapped finally. "But I've seen nothing out of the ordinary. Let me know when you catch the real crook- it won't be me. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."_

 _"Well that's what we came to ask," Velma called after him, "Are you sure there's nothing you've seen? Quite sure?"_

 _"No!" he yelled back, not looking around. "Now leave me alone!"_

 _Mr. Bateman whistled. "Whew...triggered much?"_

 _"What?" I snapped, rather more rudely than I'd intended._

 _"It means he's angry." Bateman replied._

 _"Oh right...well, no surprise, is it? We got him sent to jail a few years back. He's just bitter." Velma said simply._

 _I looked down the corridor which Wolfgang Smith had stormed off down. "Looks like we've done him a favor though." I said fairly, "If he's telling the truth, he isn't a criminal anymore."_

 _"He_ says _he isn't." Fred snapped._

 _/_

But I'm sure Velma's right- Wolfgang Smith is not responsible for this. Let's pick up where we left off again- me and Freddie are investigating on our own, the others are downstairs. Whilst I can't identify any suspects like Velma can, I am pretty sure that Wolfgang Smith _isn't_ the right guy.

 **-he was meant to be here. It's started and it can't be stopped. But everything's now falling into place-**

I ignored the sudden rush of thought, the same strange thoughts I've been having for the past few weeks now- random, nasty thoughts. They just seem to pop up, out of the blue. They scare me a little. But then I forget them. I _always_ forget.

"How's the family?" Fred asked me suddenly, jerking me back into the here and now.

"Er...fine, I think." I said uncertainly. "Freddie, are you trying to make small talk?"

Fred shrugged, "Well you've just been so quiet tonight, Daph...it's getting a little awkward."

"Well sorry, just got a lot on my mind. You know, my parents are at the hospital tonight. My dad's got some kind of checkup."

"Oh yeah?" Fred replied, trying to sound casual- but whenever my dad came up in conversation, Fred's mouth tightened and his fists clenched.

"Yeah." I said bluntly. "Let's not talk about him though, I know you hate him."

"I don't hate him." Fred said. "He hates me. I'm petrified of the old lunatic."

"Yep." I giggled. "Well look...one day, things might be different. You never know."

"I _do_ know. He won't ever like me."

"Yeah, yeah." I said, suddenly very tired. "Let's just focus on what we're doing, all right?"

So we continued prowling around the office in silence after that, determined to find the "robot" that was causing all this chaos...I don't think I _knew_ at this point...I don't remember _knowing_ what was to come...but looking back, there was something in the air that night...

Something bad.

/

/

 **Benjamin Waltzher, Senior Consultant, Coolsville Specialist Hospital**

"Well, thanks for coming in at this hour Mr. Blake." I said warmly. "Do sit down." I painted a smile. For goodness sake...why did I do this job? Why did I put myself through these meetings week after week...why, oh why?

"Thank you, I will." George Blake said brusquely, not an ounce of nervousness in his brusque voice- I guessed he was a little scared. I know that he knew something was pretty badly wrong. But he showed no fear whatsoever. Just his usual, blunt self. Not exactly unpleasant- I didn't dislike him. He was businesslike. No small talk. He said what was needed, and nothing more. He didn't smile, he didn't waste time- he was hard to like, yet impossible to actually dislike. That was my experience. I daresay other people found it entirely easy to dislike him, but that was none of my business.

"All right," he said, sitting down with a thump. "Give it to me straight."

I sat down more gently on my own seat, opposite him. "Well, I'll get straight to the point in that case...it's not very good, Mr. Blake. Not very good."

George Blake nodded. "I see," he said evenly, "So how long?"

I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. "Mr. Blake..." I began, taken aback, "That's not something I can answer, because it isn't something I know. But your heart is bad. I know you don't touch alcohol-"

"-Haven't done for years." He snapped.

"No. But the smokes don't help...I mean, you could go on for years. But um...well, I'm not very confident about that. That's the best way I can answer you."

"Crikey O-Riley on a flying blue chariot..." George Blake exclaimed, "Sounds like this could be the last winter I see."

"I'm sorry, but it may be," I agreed, "it may not. I hope not."

George waved his large hand. "I'm an old man." He grunted. "I won't pretend not to be a little anxious. But I'm not sad, nor angry. I've had a good life, for the most part."

"Yes sir."

"And I er...well, I don't know what to make about what comes next- different people give different answers, right? But one of my girls passed on a while back. Perhaps I'll see her again."

I shrugged. "I can't answer that, Mr. Blake. All I can promise is that the hospital will be ready to provide you with all the care you need- for as little or as long as you will need it."

"Right."

"I'm ever so sorry, sir."

"Don't be. I'm an old man. It can't be helped. Now is that all? My wife is waiting outside, and I have rather an important meeting in a couple of hours."

"Er...yes." I replied, "if...if you need anything at all, all you need to do it call. If not, we'll book a checkup in-"

"We won't." George replied. "Oh no. I'm not going to spend my final days coming back and forth to this place. When I need you, I'll call. Until then, assume I'm doing all right."

"As you wish, sir." We stood up, and I offered him my hand. He took it in a painfully firm grip and shook it.

"Thank you." And then he marched from the room.

I sat back down weakly, rather shocked by the whole encounter. Truth be told, I was relieved- some people reacted very badly to the news, which was quite understandable. George Blake had been shockingly calm...and I don't really think he was faking either. Not that much.

Truth be told, I was virtually certain he wouldn't go on for another year. His health was _bad_. And I mean, really bad.

It would be a shame when it happened. The guy was such a force of nature. He seemed powerful, indestructible. Yet, surely that would soon change...

I was quite sure it would.

/

/

 **Bruce Host**

"All right!" I bellowed, slouching over to my front door, wondering who on Earth was hammering on it at this hour. "This better be good, coz I'm in the middle of the damn soccer right now, and if I miss a goal, I ain't gonna be best pleased, I can tell ya that for nothing!"

I wrenched my door open angrily, expecting the cops- it wouldn't be the first time- but hoping it was someone else. Well, tonight my luck was in. Stood before me was none other than the radiant Lauren Howle, my deaf neighbor. She was wrapped up in a light blue dressing gown, with short pyjama bottoms on and nothing on her feet.

"Hot diggety!" I exclaimed, "It's lady twinkle-toes herself, ain't it! You'll catch your death of cold dressed like that tonight!"

Lauren ignored me- I guessed she probably hadn't understood most of what I'd said. She smiled weakly and asked to come in.

"Sweet Bill! Course y'can come in! I've been dreaming of the day you'd ask for many a year now, Lauren." I stood aside and let her in.

"I need your help," she said to me in her muffled and often incomprehensible voice, "Is this a good time?"

"Ya need me 'elp? Sure thing, ginger nut." I shut the door behind her and invited her through to the living room. "Want some chips?" I offered, holding the kingsize bad I'd been devouring out to her.

She shook her head. "Got any alcohol?"

"Sweet Bill! I got enough to stock a damn bar in the kitchen. What d'you want?"

"The strongest." She replied after a moment. I realized that she couldn't understand me, and when I came back into the living room with her drink (straight vodka, no less) I spoke with a slower voice.  
"Is everything all right, Lauren?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not really."

"No, I'll say. You knock at my door at this hour, dressed in your bedclothes. This must be pretty darn important. Tell your uncle Bruce, now." I wasn't her uncle, but I guess I'd sort of looked out for her when her partner was killed. I tried to, anyway. As best as a fat, ageing slob like me can help, I helped.

"I need a cab." Lauren murmured, downing the drink in one go. "Can you call one for me?"

"A cab?" I repeated, my eyes bulging. "You want a cab, at this hour, dressed like that?"

"Yeah."

"No. I won't call you a cab unless you tell me where in the tarnation you think you're going at this hour, and why."

"It's none of your business!"

"Maybe not, but you ain't getting one unless you tell me why. You can't use the phone yourself, can ya?"

Lauren sighed in exasperation. "I'll tell you, then." she snapped. "I haven't been sleeping well recently- nightmares. I have to go and see somebody, because something that happened last year is going to start happening again...I made a promise that I'd tell them if it ever did.

"Be more specific." I replied simply.

"I can't. I can't remember much of it...but it had something to do with Clifford...with what he did."

Suddenly, she was crying. Thrown, I put an arm around her dainty shoulders, wondering if it was the right thing to do. It was. She fell into my arms, sobbing her little heart out. As I held her briefly, I became lost in fantasies of my own, fantasies that were far better than the ones Lauren had apparently been having. I was only vaguely aware that she was still talking...in my head, we were both far away, sitting on a beach in some strange, exotic country, sipping cocktails and watching the sun set...the cool evening air was both comfortable and salty, the sea lapping gently at the sand in front of us...as I sat there, Lauren reached across and grabbed my-

-"Are you even listening?" she snapped angrily.

"Yeah." I lied.

"I need to see them again, because I think we need to be together again...all of us. If we're gonna beat it, like we did last time."

"Lauren, love. What in the sweet bill are you talking about?"

"I don't actually know that myself." she replied. "But whatever I need to do, it starts with going back to see them. Mystery Inc."

"Riiight..." I said, but I'd made up my mind- the girl needed a cab, and if I said no, she'd probably just book it online anyway. Or, even worse, actually walk to wherever she was going- in her dressing gown and her bare feet. She'd freeze to death before she went two blocks. I couldn't let her do that.

"Well fine. I'll get it for an hour- you ain't going out dressed like that, baby."

"I wasn't going to." Lauren replied, staring at me as if I was stupid. "I'm going home to get dressed. And thanks, Bruce."

"Sure thing." I said, sounding magnanimous. "Whatever it is, it's obviously playing on ya mind, babe."

"It is." she replied simply, showing herself out. I stared after her for a little while, before calling the nearest cab firm, and getting her a taxi. I was worried- I sensed that she was scared. Oh, I hope she wasn't gonna go and do something stupid...

I didn't think she was. I think that whatever it was, it was something that _needed_ to be done. Something she was part of, somehow...

For a short while, I wondered what. Then, with a bag of potato chips in my hand and the soccer blaring, I drifted off to sleep.

/

/

 **Wolfgang Smith**

I was angry. As I lay in bed, too furious for sleep, I went over and over the events of tonight. Oh, how unfair it was! I know I've got anger issues, but anybody would be angry about this...about what they said...wouldn't they?

/

 _I was just locking my closet for the evening, the whole office cleaned, when all of a sudden all five members of Mystery Inc (including that dumb dog) came charging down the corridor like rampaging bulls. At first I thought they were coming for me, trying to apprehend me for a crime I patently hadn't committed. But no. Hot on their heels, some massive great robot. Tall, silver and...well, patently a man in a costume. That's what struck me instantly._

 _Now, I've had experience (in a bad way) with Mystery Inc. The general rule, which I failed to understand back then, is that if you think you've got them on the run, that's when your about to lose. So although they appeared to be running from it, I knew something was about to happen- a trip wire stretched along the corridor, a net from above...anything._

 _It was the dog. Suddenly, quick as lightening, it stopped running and stretched itself out along the ground. The robot didn't have a chance- it tripped over the mutt an came crashing to the floor, parts of the costume falling apart as it smashed into the marble. It was all plastic, made to look metallic. Clever. But not clever enough._

 _"Clever." I said grudgingly, going over to them. "Real clever."_

 _"Thanks." Fred said shortly. "You ok, Scooby?"_

 _"Ryeah!" Scooby beamed, wagging his tail enthusiastically. The robot groaned on the floor, dazed but essentially unhurt._

 _One of the girls- Velma I seem to remember she was called- walked smugly over to it. "And the real identity of the robot is..."_

 _"Not me." I muttered, fascinated in spite of myself._

 _Velma pulled the robot's head off._

 _"Who the_ blazes _is that?" Fred exclaimed. But Shaggy knew who he was. So did I._

 _"Like, it's Mr. Carrion man," Shaggy said, astonished. "He's the director of AtGo Games, which ain't far from here."_

 _"As I suspected." Velma exclaimed. "I did my research before we got here- this games company that operates here...er, what's it called, Wolfgang? I've forgotten."_

 _"Pinewood." I snapped._

 _"Oh yeah. Well they're doing well. Profit wise, that is. Meanwhile AtGo is bankrupt, isn't it Mr. Carrion? I hear you afforded yourself a nice big bonus last year, while the company fell into liquidation."_

 _"Whatever." Carrion on spat. "I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids! And your dumb dog! I'd have wiped out the competition, and it would have been blamed on that useless ex-con of a janitor!"_

 _"Tell it to the cops." Fred said, tying Carrion up. "They're on the way."_

/

The cops came a short while afterwards. Mystery Inc left, and I closed up for the night. But it happened a few moments later, as I was leaving. Velma, she told me to stay out of trouble. I agreed that I would.

Then, as I was leaving for my car, I heard Fred's voice. "Fat chance of that," he had muttered, and they giggled.

He is lucky I didn't turn right around and knock him unconscious right there and then. Something held me back, something I can't explain.

"Was it you?" I said suddenly, seething with anger beneath my bed sheets. "Did you stop me hitting him?"

 _"Yesh,"_ replied the child's voice. _"But I was wrong."_

"Were you?" I said. The voice had started talking to me two weeks ago now. I couldn't see it, it came from nowhere in particular...and nobody else could hear it. But it was there all right. Talking to me.

My friend.

"You did your time, Wolfie. You tried to hard to turn your life around. They had no right to say what they did."

"That's right...but now I think about it, I don't know it was about me...I think it was, but I don't _know_."

 _"But I do."_ The voice said. _"It was. I promishe you it was."_

"Well...you were right then- you should have let me hit him...I wish I had."

 _"What if you still could? What if...what if you could do rather more than hit him?"_

"I don't wanna go back to jail." I moaned weakly.

 _"You won't. You will have your revenge. I could help you."_

"Oh yeah? What's in it for you?"

 _"Coolsville."_

I was tired now...really tired. And still angry. All I wanted to do was lash out, to kill...not just Fred, either. _All_ of them! And along with them, anybody else who dared to judge me again, who dared to bring my past back to haunt me...I would show them! I'd show them all!

 _"Yesh!"_ The voice squealed with delight. _"All of them! I can help!"_

 _"_ How?" I murmured, too tired to keep my eyes open.

 _"Jusht shleep."_ The voice lisped. _"Shleep."_

I did- somewhere in my heart, I knew that this was wrong, this was very dangerous...but I was just _so_ tired.  
So I slept.

And died. The next morning, my body wasn't my own any longer. The boy controlled it. No- not the boy. The Whispering. That's what he was. And I'm part of it now...we have something in common, me and the Whispering. We were both wronged by Mystery Inc. And now we're going to do something about that...


	20. Interval: About Us 2

_We are knowledge. We are knowledge itself. And knowledge is power. So we are power._

 _Daphne Blake and her friends were such fools- of course they were. Oh, she's not stupid enough to think that she'd killed us- of course she hadn't. But she was stupid, thinking that she'd kept her precious little toy-town safe by fighting us._

 _We exist beyond any physical form or limitation- destroying our pawn did nothing but annoy us- if Daphne Blake had been clever, she would have known that. She would have known better than to annoy us._

 _Yet this was meant to be, wasn't it? Because_ she _was there. Lauren Howle._

 _We've always known about her. Howle. Of course, we never knew what that word meant. The word simply whispered in the wind, and the cosmos screamed it at us...and we knew, we just knew, that the word was connected to us- connected, more specifically, to our downfall. But eventually, as the years elapsed, it became clearer- Howle was a person. A person who would be there when we were defeated. Heck, maybe even the person to defeat us...well, that sort of came true..._

 _But the future_ can _be changed. The other used to change it, on a whim, so there is no reason we shouldn't. Ah yes...the other. The being who defeated us, time and again in our universe of origin. We tried to destroy the other- doing so very nearly killed us. We thought it would work. We thought it was worth it. Yet once again, the other prevailed. Oh, not without help. But once again, that being defeated us. We were cast from our dimension of origin. We fell, fell through the rapids of time and through the great voids which separate our dimensions...and we ended up here. Lucky us! We didn't think we'd make it, but we did._

 _The universe of Scooby Doo. And we found it! We_ found _it! Like a needle in a haystack, yet we managed it._

 _And so, we started again. Without fresh minds, we are finished. We need them as you need air, food and water. Without them, we would just...stop. That's the main reason we kill. We need to survive._

 _At best that we can tell, we did in fact start off as a physical life form...of sorts. I suppose you might call it a swarm. Yes, that's the word. We fell to Earth (not Earth in this universe, we might add) and we found him straight away- the boy. So angry and lonely...and we used it. Nevertheless, we would have faded out within mere hours. We survived because he kept us in his heart, even as he grew into a man. Eventually, we learned to live without him. We became able to sustain ourselves without his influence. We became the Whispering._

 _But we_ did _like him. That's why we use his likeness, or rather why we_ used _his likeness. We can't now- Daphne destroyed that form, the form which (until recently) was our only meaningful way of existing in Coolsville._

 _But no more. We have Wolfgang Smith. He's part of us now- but more than that, we control his body. We are powerful now._

 _Daphne Blake wronged us. Lauren Howle might have done the deed, but the chain of events were set in motion by Daphne Blake. We didn't start it! We killed Dawn Blake for nourishment, not pleasure! Besides...we've let them talk again, haven't we? We've let them do that. She ought to be grateful to us, really._

 _One thing's for sure- when her father, the ever furious George Blake dies (which he_ will _, and sooner than everyone thinks), we won't be repeating that favour. Oh no. Most certainly not._

 _But by the time that happens...Daphne will be with us. With Dawn. Forever. Because, you see, Wolfgang Smith is going to be on television tomorrow morning._

 _And thousands of people will watch him. Thousands of people will watch us. And Coolsville will never be the same again.  
_

 _Daphne Blake will be killed- she'll become part of us. Lauren Howle will also die, but it can't be by my hand- she cannot hear the White Noise. She cannot be effected. But one way or the other, it will happen._

 _Coolsville will kill them. Coolsville will kill all of them. Enough it enough. It's time._

 _So let's get started._


	21. Headline News

**Daphne Blake**

It's not as if I needed any more persuasion that the Whispering was coming back- I knew it already. But that night, I had yet another nightmare.

 _I was in my room again, but this was my room from when I was three or four- barbies, baby dolls in prams, flowery pink wallpaper and stuffed animals. And the rocking horse._

 _I wheeled around, and I saw the Whispering sitting on the horse, rocking back and forth on it violently- in real life, it would have certainly broken. But this was a dream...or something._

 _It wore the child's form- his clothes and his small body. But the face was that of the older man. A black top hat adorned his head, somehow staying on in spite of the forceful rocking motion. Looking at it brought my memories flooding back- what happened to Dawn, the retirement home, Robson, Lauren's boyfriend destroying the restaurant...all of it._

 _"Get closer," he barked in the man's voice, "we'll talk- we'll sort something out. Hey, here's a good deal- give me Lauren Howle, and I'll let you and the gang be. How 'bout it?"_

 _"The next time I choose to get anywhere near you, I don't think you'll be so happy." I said. "I think that's when I'm going to kill you."_

 _"You want to kill me?" the Whispering squealed in the child's voice. He cackled manically, the horse rocking even faster. "You can't kill thought itself, Daphne. Even you must realize that?"_

 _"We beat you before. We'll do it again. You just wait."_

 _"You will?" It replied, sounding genuinely interested. It's face shrank to the child's. "Better get your skatesh on, Daphne. You don't wanna be too late to say goodbye to daddy-dearest."_

 _"What?" I said sharply._

 _"He'sh dying, doncha know? Heart failure. D'ya reckon he'll cry? Reckon he'll squeal like a pig..."_

 _"Liar!" I screamed, taking two steps towards it and upending the rocking horse. The boy didn't move- he stayed in mid air, in a sitting position, rocking as though the horse was still beneath him._

 _"I'll be on the telly tommorrow morning, Daphne dear. Ten in the morning, to be precise. Tune in! Tell your friendsh! It'sh gonna be a show ya'll never forget!"_

I woke up with a jump, and I knew that today was the day- the day it all started again. It was dark outside, only four in the morning...and from what it had told me, that left six hours until...until something happened.

I disregarded what he'd said about my dad. It was a lie. Of course it was.

I walked slowly to the darkened kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. I drank it in one go. The kitchen was humming with low breathing- Scooby's family were visiting. Ruby Doo, Yabba Doo, Scooby Bee and Scooby Dum slumped in a kingsize basket on the floor, all of them here for a week-

 ** _-they were meant to be here. Everything will fall into place-_**

\- and I walked quietly, trying not to disturb any of them. They'd all woken up as I'd come in, but they were too tired to bother getting up. Scooby, as ever, slept in his own basket in the porch. His friend Burch was staying in for once- it was too cold to sleep outside-

 ** _-they're all here. It's all falling into place-_**

I was dismayed to realize that my memories of what happened last year were fading again...I remembered everything in the dream! Everything! How could it be fading?

My head throbbing and my body bathed in cold sweat, I strode over to the living room and flung myself down on the couch.

The couch screamed.

I scrambled back up in terror- it hadn't felt like the couch, that's for sure. Groping around in the darkness, I tried to find the switch for the table side lamp. With a thrill of relief I felt my fingers close over the switch, which I pulled, flooding the room with dim light.

"Lauren?" I gasped incredulously.

"Daphne." she replied angrily, rubbing her nose- the back of my head had landed right on it. It was a wonder I hadn't broken it.

"B...but..." suddenly I grinned, "What are you _doing_ here?" Truthfully, I wasn't surprised to see her- I'd known she was coming back. I had been tempted to call her myself, but I'd come to understand that it wasn't necessary- when the time came, we'd all come together again. Of course she was here.

 ** _-Everything will fall into place-_**

"Shaggy let me in," Lauren said, "I got here at three. Fell asleep. Do you always wake up at this hour?"

"No, but look... why did you come?" I asked foolishly- as if I didn't know.

Lauren smiled grimly. "Dreams." She replied simply. I nodded.

"It's today, isn't it." Lauren murmured. "It's coming back."

I shook my head. "I don't think it's coming back today- I think it's already here. But it's gonna show itself today. On television!"

Lauren's eyes widened. "How?"

"I dunno, babe...I really don't know. Look, let me wake the others up. Whatever's coming, we've gotta do something." I was speaking quickly, feeling excited- yes excited. Not scared. That would come later. Which it did.

/

/

 **The Whispering**

We used Wolfgang Smith to call Marcus Bateman. We'd been practicing all night- practicing how to control his body. It was harder than we remember, controlling a human body like this. But we got the hang of it. It took a lot of concentration to manipulate the little buttons on the phone, but we managed right enough.

"Yello!" An infuriating voice called down the line- we knew all about Marcus Bateman of course. We had access to Wolfgang's thoughts. But we didn't realize just how irritating a voice he had.

"Hey, boss." we replied in Wolfgang Smith's voice- we've always been good actors. We slipped into the role quite easily. To all intents and purposes, we were Wolfgang Smith. For now.

"I hear you're on the news this morning, dude!" Wolfgang said enthusiastically. "How d'you pull that off?"

"All down to your favourite people, really. Solved the mystery, didn't they? We're open for business again, me old chum! Brighter times ahead."

"Yeah, yeah. Say...not that I'm fame hungry or anything, but do you want me to go on with you? I was there on the night after all."

Bateman laughed hysterically down the line. We waited for him to finish, growing steadily more angry with every passing moment. Finally, he calmed himself enough to reply. "Not a chance, Wolfie! It ain't up to me anyway, the television people decide. They only want one guy, and the directors told me to do it. You didn't see much anyway, did you?"

"Thought you'd say that." Wolfgang replied. "But what you'll do is this- you'll stay home. I'll go on in your place."

Bateman laughed again. We felt the phone cracking in Wolfgang's hand as we squeezed it- he was stronger under our control, and we released out grip quickly.

"Take a walk, Wolfie. What's got into you? You-"

He stopped. Not surprising. The white noise flowed down the telephone line. Oh, not enough to harm him. Just enough to make him...make him a bit more co-operative you might say.

"Y...yeah," he said weakly, "sorry, what were you saying?"

"Television interview. I'll go. Not you. You stay in bed- lie in."

"Yeah." Bateman replied breathlessly. "Yeah, that's...that's a good idea...yeah." We heard him yawn widely over the line.

"Right. In fact, I think it's best you stay in bed for the morning. You get me?"

"Sure..." Bateman hung up.

Wolfgang smiled. He looked in the mirror- there stood Wolfgang Smith, once Iron Wolf, Guru of the Iron Giants gang, Coolsville Chapter. And now, the most important man in the world- the body of the Whispering. For now, anyway.

He was dead, of course. He had no idea of the honor bestowed on him.

Or maybe he did. He was a part of us now.

/

/

 **Daphne**

We sat around the table at seven-forty that morning, having finished a breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup. I'd eaten it, but I hadn't really savored it- I was too hyped up for that. Lauren sat beside me, pale faced, her eyes bleary. She'd been up more or less the entire night.

"All right," Velma said, taking charge, "the way I see it, we've got a big problem right now. A very big problem. Issue number one- whatever happened last summer, of which we can all agree that something did happen, is happening again, according to Daphne and Lauren. Issue number two- I think we need to believe them. Lauren is so sure that she turned up here in the middle of the night. Both she and Daphne have been having bad dreams about it. Issue number three- none of us, and that includes Daphne and Lauren, can actually remember what happened last summer. We all know it was something bad...dangerous. Issue number four- and here's the big one- Daphne seems to think it's going to be on the television at ten this morning. That's in two hours and twenty minutes, give or take a few minutes."

Velma paused, and took a sip of orange juice before continuing.

"So," she resumed finally, "my first question is this- who remembers what? Who remembers anything?"

"Like, not me," Shaggy piped up at once, "nothing at all. But I got a question."

"Is it relevant?" Velma asked.

"Might be. I wanna know why Daphne and Lauren have been getting these dreams and whatnot, when the rest of us haven't. Why is that?"

It was me who answered, smirking a little. Shaggy had blushed noticeably when he'd mentioned Lauren's name. "I think I know- the thing killed Dawn, and Lauren's boyfriend. We both lost someone we loved because of it. I think, in some warped kind of way, that makes us...almost closer to it...or something."

"I'm not so sure," Lauren said after a moment, "it was always scared of me, before I even knew about it. I think- though I'm not sure- it was because I'm deaf. Somehow that made me dangerous to it..."

"Right! That does seem vaguely familiar!" Fred replied.

"It does," I agreed, "so maybe I'm wrong...maybe it's...well, it's scared of you because you are deaf. Maybe it's scared of me because of how I went after it after what it did. Maybe it never expected anybody to do that. Maybe?"

"I'd say both ideas might have weight," Velma said evenly, "I also think it's something to consider for another day- for now, let's just focus on the fact that they get these visions, regardless of the reason for it. Now, does anyone remember any little details? Anything that might help us?"

"Randomonium." Fred said quietly. We all looked at him, puzzled.

"I remember that part. How could I forget? I was so scared for Daphne...I..."

Fred's voice cracked. I gripped his forearm tightly, "tell us."

"It was Lauren's idea I think. Or Velma's. But Lauren managed to get hold of some randomonium, and we used it to...to find out about the thing. Could we possibly repeat that? That possible at all?"

Velma turned to Lauren. "Randomonium? Can you get hold of more randomonium?"

"What?"

"Radomonium," Velma repeated slowly, "Are you able to get some more?"

"I...should be. I'll have to send an e-mail to my old lecturer from college, but yes. I'm sure I can."

"Yeah," I said, "but that in itself wasn't enough. I remember now...we applied it to a sketch of the monster. We can't remember what it looks like though."

"That won't be a problem," Lauren assured us, "it's a remarkable chemical, randomonium. I've got an idea..."

/

/

 **9:25 AM, Coolsville Shopping Mall**

Lauren's old tutor from college- a thin, balding man with thick glasses and wiry tufts of grey hair- dropped off a vial of the stuff at the Italian restaurant at the mall where we'd agreed to meet him. We'd ordered some food to be polite, but none of us were hungry- breakfast had only been a few hours ago, and anyhow, we were too excited. We'd taken the dogs- they were all sitting outside in the Mystery Machine, the back door open to give them some fresh air. Nobody dares mess with six huge dogs, so we weren't worried about it getting stolen.

Lauren's tutor didn't hang around to chat. Randomonium wasn't exactly illegal, but it was in contravention of all the university regulations to provide it to anybody outside of the university, past students or otherwise. He chatted to Lauren briefly, looking incredibly shifty, then scarpered quickly. We sat in a booth at the very corner of the room, the little vial of green liquid in the middle of the table. Fred and Shaggy, the two largest of the group, had positioned themselves with their backs to the rest of the dining room, blocking the view of anyone who might snoop.

"You sure this will work?" I asked Lauren.

"It should. We all think of last year. Think of anything and everything you remember, as little or as much as that is. Randomonium responds to thoughts, you know. Sitting in the middle of a circle like this, it will listen to us. It will show us something."

"Fine. Let's begin." Velma said.

"Yeah, let's...Shaggy, you all right?" I noticed he was looking glum.

"I don't remember anything, Daph," he grumbled, "literally nothing. I'm no help."

"Just wait, Shaggy," Velma said, "if this works, you will remember. Come on, everyone. Let's do it."

As one, we shut our eyes, and thought. I can't speak for the others, or what they remembered. I guessed Lauren would be thinking of that night her boyfriend died. Perhaps Velma would remember a little of when she researched about the murders it had committed over the generations. I myself, of course, thought about Dawn. About what had been done to her- and who had done it.

Not _who_ had done it. _What_ had done it.

I thought about the days and weeks afterwards. About what I saw and felt back then. I thought about the first times I saw it for myself- in some sort of museum to start with...then at the Milton Brothers studios...then in my dreams. I'd seen it in my dreams a lot. I thought about how scared I was. But how determined as well. Determined to make the creature pay.

I shut my eyes tighter and strained my memory. Show me what it was, I screamed in my head. Show me it! And show me how we beat it!"

Show me! Show me!

 _Everything went black. For a moment, I panicked- what had happened? I searched desparatley for Fred's hand, but it was too far away- millions of miles too far. My vision returned. My body was still in the restaurant, but my mind wasn't. I was in space! Actual space! Yet I was standing on firm, invisible ground, as though I was in some sort of invisible spaceship. I could breathe. Stars glittered not only above me, but below me! Woah...in spite of everything, I grinned. I couldn't help it. It seemed so real!_

 _I was here for a reason though. Not to enjoy it. There was something I had to see. But what? For a moment, there was nothing. Just endless stars glittering all around me. Then it happened- a few yards from me, somewhere off to my left and above me, I heard an awful screeching noise-_

 _ **-the white noise-**_

 _as the fabric of reality teared apart...a splinter had opened up in the middle of space, a splinter in the skin of the universe. Pure white light poured through...then, as I watched, a medium sized piece of space rock flew from the tear- it didn't drift along lazily as the rocks around me were doing- it zoomed, for want of a better word. It rushed past me at an impossible speed, a granite-grey boulder hurtling through space. Attached to it was some sort of black, smokey substance. The Whispering. The tear closed behind it with that same splintering sound._

 _The Whispering! I remembered the name! What's more, I was sure I could follow it...I shut my eyes again, and just...flew. I knew I could. Suddenly, I was rushing through space at the speed of light, galaxies and suns flying past me so fast they blurred. I laughed in spite of myself...what a feeling it was! Best of all, I knew exactly where we were headed. After mere seconds, I felt myself slowing down...there was a planet in front of me, a familiar planet. My planet._

 _There it was! Planet Earth! Greener than my time, and the continents were all muddled up. But it was Earth all right. I watched as the meteor glowed red, burning up as it crashed through the atmosphere. I saw the smoke still tethered to it. This was the day the Whispering arrived, I realized. Defeated by the Other and banished, it came to our world through a tear in space and time, crashing to Earth..._

 _The scene changed. I was in a mine, of all places! Blimey! I'd just seen the wonders of space, now here I was in a grubby, smelly mineshaft! A team of men were working in front of me._

 _"Hello?" I asked cautiously. None of them heard me. Of course they hadn't._

 _But-_

 _"Cor, Ernest! I got a big rock right here."_

 _I looked. In the section the miner had been digging was a large granite rock. That rock. The same one I'd just watched crash to Earth._

 _Ernest came over to talk to the miner. "Well dig it up Robert, stupid boy! We-"_

 _He stopped. Suddenly, with a pang of terror, I realized where I was- Coolsville, 1865. Velma told me about this, oh so long ago. A mine had collapsed, killing loads of workers...five days afterwards, the Whispering slaughtered someone-_

 _And it was here! With a nauseating, head-spinning rush of painful emotion, I felt my memories come flooding back. All of them. At once. Dawn...the Whispering! Robson! The retirement home! All of it!_

 _"No..." I screamed, clutching my head and collapsing, my eyes burning, "stop...the pain!"_

 _I shut my eyes tightly my fingernails digging into my skin as I clutched my searing forehead. But even through all my pain, I saw it- the boy climbed out of the rock. Literally. He climbed out of it as though there was a hidden trap door. He pointed at Robert, not uttering a word. Robert, equally quietly, turned to Ernest and planted his pickaxe in his skull. The crunch set my teeth on edge, making my nausea a hundred times worse...Robert walked right past me without seeing me, down the shaft. I didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but I knew the result- the mind would be destroyed. The Whispering's first act, having just been dug up after millions of years, was to murder those who had found it...and I was in here! I'd be buried alive! Choked on soil and dust, unable to move or call for help..._

 _No! I wasn't here! I wasn't! I was in the restaurant. I opened my mouth wide and drew breath,_

"Freddie!" I screamed.

I screamed again, but not in fear this time, but extreme discomfort. The world went black again and I realized that I was soaked through and shivering. I opened my eyes. I was back in the restaurant, my friends gathered around me. Shaggy was standing up, an empty pitcher in his hand. He'd poured water over me to wake me up.

"Thanks, I guess..." I said grudgingly, my head and stomach somehow back to normal. Just like that.

"I saw it," I said excitedly, my words tripping over each other to get out, "I saw it arrive, thousands of years ago! I was in space guys! Actual space!"

"You never left that seat." Velma replied quickly.

"But I did. In my mind. I wasn't here at all. I saw more! The mine that collapsed in the 1800's. They found it. It crashed to Earth, and they dug it up. They woke it up."

"Yes, Daph. But do you remember it? Are your memories back?" Velma asked me urgently.

I grinned broadly, "Yeah. All of it. Golly, it hurt when it all came back to me. But it's all back. I remember everything we did. What about you guys? Please say you've got your memories back again?"

"Yeah," Fred grunted, "we all experienced something just there. We all saw something. None of us had it as bad as you though Daph."

"It wasn't bad," Daphne replied, "I mean, yeah, it was scary. But what I saw, it was...well, I'll never forget it. Ever. It was so beautiful, guys. You've no idea."

"We should use this stuff more often." Shaggy said, and we all laughed. For some reason, we all felt good. Perhaps it was the effects of the randomonium. We had no reason to feel so good right now. It was nine-thirty, half-an-hour until the Whispering was allegedly appearing on television, yet none of us felt any real urgency-

 ** _-You've remembered what you needed to. Battles will yet be lost, but the war is won-_**

-I voiced this latest intrusion of thought to the gang. "Perhaps we've won. Perhaps all we needed to do was remember how we beat it...perhaps we've won just by knowing that! Perhaps we can just...do it again, no trouble."

But Velma was turning white. Her hands gripped the table so tightly that the tendons on her hands were bulging through the skin. "Velmster?" I said, shaking her firmly on the shoulder.

"Oh no," she turned to me, shaking with terror and panic, "oh, no...no, no, no, no, no...Daph, we've got to get to the television station. Now!"

"Why?" I asked in alarm, glancing at the others. None of them spoke. "Come on guys! We all remember what happened, so somebody help me out here? What's the problem?"

It was Lauren's turn to go white. She stared from me to Velma, and back to me. "No..." she stood up suddenly, knocking her chair backwards behind her.

"The white noise," Velma replied in a voice barely more than a squeak, "the white noise...it's going on television, and it's gonna...it's gonna transmit the white noise. To everyone. Millions of people watching...Daph, just think what it did to us last time! Its-"

"Calm down." I ordered. "Come on guys, we've gotta go, now. We-

I froze...we all did. The restaurant had gone quiet. And not without good reason- everyone was asleep. Asleep at the bar, asleep at their tables. Waiters slept on the floor, the plates they'd been carrying lying in pieces beside them. Food lay everywhere.

But that wasn't the worst part. Blocking the entrance to the restaurant, which led out into the atrium of the shopping mall, were six enormous dogs. Six enormous dogs, some of them horribly familiar. And all of them horribly angry. Each of them snarled at us, their razor sharp teeth glistening with saliva.

I knew four of them- Algeron and Marmaduke the guard dogs at the Milton Brothers Movie Lot. Two dobermans whom I didn't recognize, one with strange light rings around the eyes, the other pure black with a silky fur coat. And then...Nikolai and Viktor, the Russian Wolfhounds from the Blaskov Hotel...and somehow, there they were. Just standing there, blocking our exit...

"No..." I moaned, "they can't be there...it makes no sense. How did they get there?"

"It must have summoned them..." Velma whispered, not taking her eyes off the huge, savage dogs that stood before us.

"No," I said, "they aren't there! They can't be real..."

"It's the Whispering." Shaggy whimpered, as the dogs growled at us, their eyes blazing. They didn't seem willing to attack- not yet- but if we so much as moved an inch...

"There will be a fire exit in the kitchen," Lauren said matter of factly, "but if we move, they'll..."

"Go back," Fred told us softly as the dogs began to salivate, "just go back...nice and slow. Head for the kitchen."

We did. I walked backwards at a snails pace, my heart pounding. Whether or not those dogs were real or not, I couldn't tell...if they were just a mirage, a trick of the Whispering's (like putting everyone in the vicinity to sleep), then they couldn't hurt us...but if, as I suspected, they were as real and as hungry as they looked, then the Whispering had come back ten times more powerful...had it really summoned them here? How else could it have happened? I kept backing up, my heart in my throat. I tried to imagine one of those brutes sinking their teeth into me...I wanted to run! I needed to run! They were walking towards us now, slowly and carefully, moving as a pack.

"Shaggy," Velma hissed, "Grab what's left of the randomonium. We'll need it."

Shaggy gulped- he was nearest the table, but to get it would mean moving forwards a couple of feet, an action which went against every instinct he possessed- a couple of feet forward was a couple of feet closer to the dogs...nonetheless, shaking like a leaf, he slowly moved forward and grabbed the little vial.

"G...got i...i...it..t," he managed to stutter.

"Good, good," Velma replied softly, "we'll need it. We're gonna call for help."

I gulped. The dogs were only a few feet in front of us now...

"We've gotta run for it." I said.

"Yeah," Fred's face had gone the color of chalk, "on my go."

I grabbed Lauren's hand. She slowly turned her head to look at me, unwilling to fully turn away from the dogs.

"We're running." I told her, "get ready."

She nodded.

"All right then," Fred gulped. "So on the count of three. One...two...go!"

Taken off guard, I stumbled, nearly pulling Lauren over with me- that would have been it for both of us, no doubt about it. Somehow I stayed upright, yanking her along with me. Behind us, the dogs charged, barking and snapping their jaws mere yards behind us. We poured into the kitchen (a sterile white room with blue and white tiles along the floor), slamming the door shut behind us.

"In here!" Velma said, leading us all into a walk-in pantry. We scrambled into it, closing the steel door behind us. It was a little room, about the size of those large elevators they have at hospitals, the ones they put the beds in. Food adorned every wall, shelves of dry-store products.

"Freddie," I gasped, massaging my heart, "you said we were going on three."

"We did!"

"You went on two, man!" Shaggy told him angrily.

"No...one, two, _go_. Go is number three."

"Your meant to say three. One, two, three...go." I snapped.

"But then you'd be going on the four..."

"Oh, just be quiet, please," Velma snapped, snatching the bottle of randomonium from Shaggy, "Give me that."

"What are you gonna do?" Lauren asked her curiously, looking deeply shaken by what just happened. We all were.

"I'll show you. Give me a second, all right?"

"This can't be real..." Fred whimpered, "those dogs...they can't be real...they aren't there guys...it's gotta be toying with us."

"They're as real as the Whispering wants them to be." Velma remarked darkly. "If it can do this, then it's come back a lot more powerful than the last time...guys, this is really bad."

"But we know it's not got endless power," I said, "this will have weakened it, bringing them here...if we can just get away from them, now's the perfect time to strike..."

"We're locked in a pantry." Lauren retorted. "We _can't_ get past them."

Velma yanked the top off of the randomonium bottle. "True enough. But we can call for help. Guys- think of Scooby Doo and his family. Just think of them. Picture them in your mind, as hard as you can. Shaggy, you call them."

I did as she said, thinking what a spectacular coincidence this all was...we had six dogs of our own sitting right outside, six dogs who could get us out of this...six dogs whom would save our lives.

If you believe that's a coincidence, your an idiot. Just as the Whispering was working it's will over Coolsville once again-

 ** _-not for long-_**

-it was at this point that I truly began to realize that it wasn't alone- there was another force at work here, one not only equal to the Whispering, but possibly even stronger. It's how Lauren knew to come back. It's the reason that Scooby's family _just happened_ to pick today to visit him. But what was it? The other-

 ** _-the other won't help. Anyhow, no more help is needed-_**

-all right then, what? Who? Who was bringing all these events together?  
I lost my train of thought- not a suprise- the randomoinium was growing inside the bottle, smashing it into pieces. The green liquid continued to take shape, forming...surely not...no, it couldn't be...it...it was a megaphone.

I laughed aloud. It glowed green, it's skin damp and slimy. But I understood.

"That stuff is legendary." I remarked, laughing weakly.

Velma smiled. "I think you know what to do, Shaggy."

"You bet!" Shaggy laughed. Understanding, I shut my ears tightly. He picked up the megaphone and, at the top of his lungs, bellowed down the speaker-

 _"Scooby Doo! Where are you?"_

Even with my ears covered, the noise ran through me like a shock-wave. The whole room seemed to shake. It was so loud that Lauren, who had about five percent of hearing, heard. She looked at him, quite fascinated. I realized that she'd never heard any of us speak before. She couldn't. But that megaphone had amplified Shaggy's voice so much that she'd heard a little of how he sounded. I smiled.

"D'you think they heard?" Shaggy asked.

"They heard," Velma said grinning, watching the megaphone melt back into green goo, "they're coming. They'll hold them off."

But something was wrong- "it's too quiet." I said. "Where _are_ the dogs?"

A sickening thought crept into my mind- the dogs...well, we'd taken ourselves off the menu right enough. We were safe in here, if a little bit trapped. But all those people outside in the mall...put to sleep by the Whispering's power...they were like free meals out there.

Lauren, as if reading my mind, shook her head. "They're here for us. Only us. The Whispering won't waste energy on anyone else."

I nodded, my throat tight. "We need a plan then. When Scooby and the others get in here, we'll slip out. We'll slip past, and head to the television station...it's got to be there, guys. That's where we need to go."

"No, ma'am," Shaggy replied, his face resolute, "I'm staying here, with Scooby. I'm not leaving any of them to fend for themselves."

"Right," I said, "Velma, would you stay here as well?"

Velma shrugged, "I guess. Will you guys be all right?"

"We'll never get there in time," Fred said, glancing at his watch, "if it's broadcasting at ten..."

"No, but we can catch it while it's still there hopefully." I said.

We heard an enormous clatter from outside...followed by a series of ferocious barks. Clawed paws skidded away from the pantry door and rushed back into the restaurant area.

"Come on," I hissed, "we'll be safe."

My heart thumping violently, I opened the pantry door quietly. Walking as quietly as I could, I beckoned the others to follow- the most horrendous sounds were coming from the dining room, as Scooby and his family attacked the Whispering's dogs...Shaggy and Velma bustled past me. Shaggy, I noticed, was carrying a kitchen knife. I gaped- but then if things turned bad...if those dogs got at him and Velma...what else could he do?

"Good luck." I hissed, and scrambled out through the fire exit, into a grubby little garbage area behind the mall. Fred and Lauren followed suit. "Mystery Machine," I hissed, "Freddie, you've gotta drive like you've never driven before, all right?"

"Yeah," Fred's face had turned grey. "Gotcha."

/

/

 **The Whispering**

 **9:45 AM, Coolsville Regional News Studios**

"All right, Mr...Smith, ain't it?" A plump man in a headset and dark green t-shirt shook Wolfgang's hand.

Wolfgang smiled, "Yeah," we (he) replied, "Mr. Bateman sent me. He's way busy."

The white noise flowed through Wolfgang's body, addling the mind of the little producer man. Ordinarily, a last minute swap like this would never be approved so lightly. But today, what _we_ say is what goes.

So it will be for ever, once we get in that studio.

"Fine..." the producer replied, sounding tired.

"When am I on?" Wolfgang asked.

"Twenty minutes."

" _Whaaat?_ " Wolfgang bellowed, causing the producer to shudder.

"Look, sorry all right. I don't make the schedules. It's only five minutes late man!"

We forced ourselves to calm down. "Yes...forgive me," Wolfgang replied silkily, "I just...I'm a little nervous."

"Quite understandable," the producer replied, "I'll let you know when your up, all right?" He walked away.

We watched him go, fury and panic consuming us...five minutes...that might be all they need...they're coming. Daphne Blake and Lauren Howle...they're coming...our dogs didn't get them...but there's still a some of Mystery Inc at the mall. They divided to get away...maybe those left behind will die...

We're scared. We're so close! We can't be beaten now! Not _now_!

/

/

 **Shaggy**

I loved Scooby (and indeed his family) for many reasons- but there was one above all else- they weren't aggressive. Not remotely. Oh, as a last resort they could defend themselves, but...usually they preferred more peaceful means. Like hurling food at six rival, murderous dogs.

I almost felt like laughing as Scooby and the others reared up on their back legs and hurled food at the other dogs, trying to distract them. They continued to stand and move around on their back legs as they began throwing different kinds of pizza, lasagna, spaghetti, cheesecake, and drinks at each other. But you can only hold off dogs of that size for so long... soon enough, all twelve dogs started wrestling and smashing the tables and chairs by falling on top of the tables and using the chairs as weapons. If Lauren had been there, which thankfully she wasn't, it would have reminded her strongly of another Italian restaurant that was destroyed, the one where she had worked, happily and contently. Until the Whispering had taken all that away.

Me and Velma watched in dismay as the animals tore out of the restaurant in a savage flurry of claws and snapping teeth. They moved into the next unit at the mall.

"What's in there?" Velma asked me.

"Uh...uh, toy store..." I replied. We looked at each other and ran after them, hoping to keep up. We raced into the toy store, a scene of devastation already unfolding.

Scooby Dum and Vik the wolfhound were trying to stave each other off over a large dollshouse. They used their claws to rip chunks of wood off of the roof and were crushing it to pieces, and within a few moments they were standing on what remained of the dollshouse, locked together with their forelegs wrapped around one another in what looked like a bizarre hug fight. The other ten dogs joined in as they started knocking toys onto the floor, slamming themselves up against action figures, games and dolls that hung on the walls.

Scooby Doo, Algeron, Yabba Doo, Burch, Scooby Dee, Ruby Doo, Nik, Marmaduke, and the two dobermans (Panda and Silky, I decided to nickname them) were fighting and wrestling in a ten dog pile up. They rolled all over the floor in one great big mass of fur, legs shooting out in random directions, crushing toys with their bodies and ripping the carpet with their claws and teeth as they fought.

And on it went... on _they_ went, ransacking several businesses including a coffee house, a beauty salon, a comic book shop, an electronic store, a clothing retailer and at least one department store just to name a few. Me and Velma traipsed along behind them, not daring to get involved (obviously), but then not quite daring to try and separate them...if anything happened to Scooby...oh, if anything happened to my little buddy...

Feeling sick, I glanced at the kitchen knife in my hand. Would I do it? Could I do it?  
I just hoped I wouldn't have to put it to the test...

/

/

 **The Whispering**

"All right," the producer said, leading us into the studio and sitting us down next to the newsreader. What was left of Wolfgang's mind told us that the newsreader was mildly famous around Coolsville- we were almost starstruck!

He smiled at Wolfgang. "All right, buddy? Just answer the questions and you'll be fine. You ain't under any scrutiny, this is good news. Makes a change for me to report that!"

"Yes, yes yes," Wolfgang snapped, glancing nervously at the entrance, "when are we on?"

"Two minutes," the newsreader snapped back, "and you should watch your attitude, young man."

Oh blimey...oh blimey...I _needed_ to get on air...

/

/

 **Daphne**

"You need the cops," I told the guard at the television station, half-shouting with frustration, "please believe us! There's something dangerous going down here!"

"Then tell me what." The guard snapped.

"We can't!" I moaned, "We're Mystery Inc! You must know us? We know about stuff like this! Please, let us in."

The guard laughed. "Yeah, I know Mystery Inc all right. I happen to know, for example, that Mystery Inc only has one cute little redhead. Not two."

Me and Lauren looked at each other.

"She's a friend," I said, "I'm Daphne, I'm the one in Mystery Inc."

"Well good for you," the guard said, taking his walkie-talkie from his pocket, "but you still ain't coming in."

"Sir, I truly apologize for this," Fred said, swinging a large fist towards the guard. Idiot. Before he could so much as cry out, the guard had Fred's arm twisted behind his back. He hurled Fred to the floor.

"Well you wanted cops, you'll get cops," the guard said, dialing a number on his walkie-talkie, "yeah, it's Rex. I'm gonna need police assist-"

That was as far as he got. I hadn't used my martial arts skills for many a year, but if ever a situation called for it, this one did. My left leg to flew into the air, the toe of my shoe making contact with the bouncer's chin. Lauren took the opportunity to sink her fist into his stomach. Ordinarily, that punch would have made little impact. But unfortunately, he doubled over just moments before it made contact. Her punch hit home right enough, but it ended up striking somewhere lower down than his stomach.

"S...sorry," Lauren muttered as the guard cried out, sinking to the floor, clutching his groin, "I wasn't aiming there..."

"Save it for later," I told her, helping Fred up, "come on, we need to get moving before more of 'em come...it's gotta be the news. That's the only live broadcast going out now. Where's the news studio?"-

 ** _-Follow your instinct. You'll find it-_**

-"All right," I replied, more to the voice in my head than to the guys, "just follow me then. We'll find it."

/

/

 **The Whispering**

"And now," the newsreader began, "we're happy to report the reopening of Pinewood Games, which until recently had been forced into closure, the result of rival games company AtGo Games's director sabotaging their establishment. We talk to janitor Wolfgang Smith, a man who saw the consequences of this dismally immoral campaign to wipe out the competition for himself. Mr. Smith, thanks for joining us today."

"Yes." Wolfgang snapped. We'd won! We were live on air! Millions of people were watching us.

"So I want to ask you about what went on over this period, and how it effected you. I mean, I suppose it took money out of your pocket as well?"

"I don't need money." Wolfgang replied. We watched the newsreader squirm a little, regretting allowing this sinister guy to come on in Bateman's place.

"Right um...but what did you see? What went on?"

Wolfgang considered the question, "well, Wolfgang's dead." we said smiling. Breaking cover. "But I can tell you what he saw if you like."

The newsreader loosened his collar, "Well, yes, uh..."

There was a commotion outside the studio doors. We heard raised voices from outside. Then, the doors burst open.

"You can't go in!" The producer wailed.

There they were- some of them anyway. I looked directly at Daphne Blake, and she at me. For a moment, she was confused- why was Wolfgang Smith here? But then, I saw understanding creep into her face. She turned white. I grinned at her.

"It's _him_!" She wailed, pointing at Wolfgang. "It's controlling him! Get him off air! Turn the cameras off!"

But it was far too late for that. I stood up, watching the cameras follow my progress. Everyone on set slumped to the floor, sleeping soundly- apart from my three visitors, that is.

"Well, ladies and gents," Wolfgang said, looking directly into the camera, "Here is the broadcast to end all broadcasts!"

We opened Wolfgang's mouth wide, allowing the White Noise to flow out. The sound reached millions of homes through the television. We could feel millions of ears hearing it, millions of minds submitting. We heard Daphne scream out in defeat- ha! Whatever they did now, it didn't matter. We'd done it! All through Coolsville, the white-noise blared, and everyone heard! Everyone was under our control! An entire city, or a sizable chunk of it- anyone who'd been watching the news! We had an army! A whole army! And nothing would stop us now.

Too late now, Mystery Inc! Coolsville belongs to us!

/

 **Note: Credit to Dark Fox Tailz for the scenes where Scooby and his family are fighting the Whispering's dogs. Sorry for the delay in updating the story, technical issues. All reviews appreciated. :)**


	22. Stop

**Daphne**

We rushed into the studio, barreling past everyone who tried to stop us- we crashed through the doors, and stopped dead - it was fine, at a first glance - all of it, fine. The newsreader, the camera crew, some guy getting interviewed...for the briefest of moments, I felt relief wash over me. Maybe it had gotten scared...it must have known we were coming. Maybe it fled, like the coward it really was...

But I looked closer at the scene in front of me. My gaze fell on the young guy who appeared to be getting interviewed. My mouth hung open. It was Wolfgang Smith...Wolfgang, the gangster turned janitor...I looked at him, and he at me. Our eyes met. Those eyes were brown, ratty and murky. Yet in those eyes stirred something all too familiar...

Understanding came - feeling my blood turn cold, I opened my mouth, and with a shaking finger, pointed at Wolfgang. "It's him! It's controlling him! Get him off air! Turn the camera's off!" I screamed like a woman possessed, as Wolfgang merely smiled smugly at me.

Not Wolfgang. The Whispering.

The newsreader (for the briefest moment, I felt mildly starstruck - I'd seen this guy on television so many times) opened his mouth to say something in response...but then, before my very eyes, he slumped in his seat, his head resting on the desk. The camera-crew did the same. All of them.

The Whispering stood up, and although it was Wolfgang's body and Wolfgang's face, I'd have recognized that expression anywhere - that horrible, excited _pretend_ expression. The Whispering had never actually looked like a little boy to me - he'd always looked like a monster _pretending_ to be a little boy. And although Wolfgang's face was different, the look on it was so akin to the Whispering's that I would have spotted him even if I hadn't gotten my memories back.

He spoke, "well, ladies and gents!" He looked at the camera. "Here is the broadcast to end all broadcasts!"

He opened his mouth, and I knew exactly what was about to happen- I held my ears shut tightly, and Fred did the same. I grabbed Lauren by the shoulders and wheeled her round to face me, "the white noise!" I said in my clearest voice, exaggerating each movement of my lips - if she didn't understand me the first time, I feared there wouldn't be a second chance - "you have to stop it!"

I needn't have worried - she understood me almost straight away, as she did most of the time. Without comment, she rushed at Wolfgang. But we were too late...the white noise was transmitting, and thousands of people were now listening. Nonetheless, if we could just _get it_ now, maybe that wouldn't matter...

I watched Lauren approach Wolfgang, who's mouth was hung open impossibly wide as he transmitted the Whispering's hypnotic weapon of choice...I wondered what she was going to do. Lauren was small, a little smaller than me. Wolfgang was large. But she was quicker than him. Before he could react, she grabbed the camera clean off it's pedestal and, without a second's hesitation, brought it crashing down on Wolfgang's head. Very hard. He crumpled to the floor, like a paper cut-out caught in a gust of wind. For the briefest moment I thought he was dead. But no. He staggered to his feet, disorientated and clumsy - he started towards Lauren, cold fury etched over his face. But before he could reach her, Fred stepped in between them, his clenched fist making contact with Wolfgang's face, just below his nose.

The Whispering screamed. With a sickening _crunch_ , blood spurted from Wolfgang's mouth and nose. The Whispering might not have been Wolfgang, but while it was in Wolfgang's body, Wolfgang's pain was it's pain. He swung at Fred, but not before I - using my martial arts skills for the second time in a few minutes, after years without them - slid across the floor, my outstretched arm sweeping Wolfgang's legs from underneath him, flooring him.

Then Fred was on top of him, elbowing him in the face, and then hitting him, over and over again, until Wolfgang Smith lay still and bloody on the floor. If he wasn't dead, he was dying. -

 ** _\- like daddy-dearest-_**

\- He stood up, his face grim and set. He stared at Wolfgang's lifeless body, "I had to do it, didn't I?" He said, for his own benefit rather than ours. "No choice, was there?"

"No," I agreed, "no choice. And I'm very glad you did. He was dead - Wolfgang, that is. You didn't kill him. The Whispering did that."

"But the white noise..." Lauren looked worried. "It transmitted the White Noise..."

"Yeah," I said, "but it...it was possessing Wolfgang, and now Wolfgang's dead. Surely it's gone...whatever it did, surely it won't have any effect now..."

Lauren looked at me and Fred thoughtfully. "I wonder..." she said softly.

/

/

 **Velma**

It was extraordinary- me and Shaggy simply stood there as observers, watching twelve huge dogs tear into each other violently. They'd ripped through the shopping mall, yet still not one of them showed any signs of letting up - they were now battling at a used car auto-dealers lot that was being destroyed in the savage fight.

Scooby Doo and Marmaduke were fighting their way up onto the roof of a car, a blue colored Buick Verano and they were putting scratch marks and dents in the metal roof top. I gazed up at them in dismay, watching them growling and grunting at one another with pure hatred on their faces as they fought, stomping around on the roof of the car. They had each placed a foreleg paw on top of the others' head so they were now gripping and pushing one another's head back. The remaining ten dogs followed their lead, making their way up onto a few nearby cars - now there was at least two dogs each on top of one of six vehicles in all fighting like mad in the same way as Scooby and Duke...me and Shaggy looked at each other helplessly- we wanted to get away from this , we needed to get away from it! We had to help the guys...but Shaggy would never leave them. Never, not for any reason.

Algeron and Yabba Doo were battling on their hind legs on top of another car, a red Ford Fusion SE, that was getting dents and scratch marks from their clawed back paws moving all over the metal roof. Vik and Scooby Dum had their foreleg paws lock together in a crazy sort of test of strength. They too were putting scratch marks and dents in the metal roof, and with dismay, I wondered how much this could end up costing us...presuming there was anyone left alive to sue, that is.

Burch and Nik were fighting on the roof top of a teal colored Chevrolet Malibu while Scooby Dee and Silk were, quite bizarrely, slapping each other in the face with on the roof top of a gold colored Lexus RC. Ruby Doo and Panda also were battling on their hind legs on the roof top of a silver colored Acura TLX, by locking their jaws onto one another and were hug fighting.

I winced as Burch threw Nik clear off the car - the wolfhound whimpered, but he was far from finished - he leapt back up to the car and carried straight back on.

I nudged Shaggy, "we've got to get out of here, Shaggy. Try to call Scooby and the others off...we've got to run for it..."

He nodded grimly - he was no fool. The other dogs might have forgotten us for now, but that wouldn't last. It was _us_ they were meant to attack, after all. That's why the Whispering sent them.

"Scooby Snacks," he said quietly, producing a crumpled bag of them from his pocket, "waft them around in the air." He handed me some of them.

"Right." I held the treats up, allowing their scent to spread around the car dealership...who knows, maybe all of them would calm down once they'd got a whiff of them.

Did it work? Yes and no, I think is the answer. As we hoped, A _ll_ of the dogs got the scent, and _all_ of them stopped fighting, each one of them desperate to get the treats. Suddenly, watching them all stood stock still on top of the cars, I realized what was about to happen, realized how we'd been so stupid as to overlook it.

The dogs charged as one. Six of them, our friends, charged with happy, loving expressions on their faces, licking their lips enthusiastically. But the other six charged towards us, barking and trampling over each other to get the treats - they'd tear us apart to get them.

"Zoinks!" Shaggy screamed and threw the Scooby Snacks across the street. As a pack, the dogs tore after the packet. Quickly, I threw the Scooby Snacks into the crowd. Some of them stopped to pick the up, but one held his course, charging for the bag. Scooby Doo. He snatched it from the floor and ran, full pelt, along the sidewalk. The other dogs followed him closely.

He thought he was doing us a favour, leading them all away...but then I saw where he was leading them. "Oh no..." I muttered, "not the museum..."

But it was. Me and Shaggy ran after them, but it was to late. The other eleven dogs chased after Scooby Doo, pouring through the entrance of the Coolsville History Museum...

/

/

 **Daphne**

I bent down and picked up Wolfgang's head, wincing at the blood seeping through my fingers. He was dead all right. And if the Whispering hadn't managed to get on the television, that would have been the end of it. It's new body was destroyed, it would have been cast off again, away from our dimension...perhaps not forever, perhaps not even for long, but for the time being at least.

But it _had_ gotten on television. It had broadcast the white noise to thousands of viewers...

Lauren knelt down next to me. Fred was staring resolutely at the wall, his eyes red and watery - as far as he was concerned, he'd killed someone. I wanted to tell him he hadn't - I wanted to repeat to him that Wolfgang Smith had died when the Whispering possessed him, and that even then, the Whispering wouldn't have died along with Wolfgang's body...in short, he hadn't really killed anyone...but the words wouldn't come.

"The people," Lauren said, "they're waking up."

They were- the security guards, the camera-crew, the newsreader himself...everyone was waking up. The Whispering's power over them was broken. -

 ** _-it isn't. It's nearly over, but there is pain yet to come -_**

I didn't ignore the voice in my head this time. I listened. Which is why I said;

"I don't think it's over. But come on, we've got to get away from here. You realize how this looks?"

"Sure," Fred murmured, "three intruders burst in. Next thing everyone knows, the guy who was being interviewed is beaten to death...they won't have seen the missing pieces, but they'll pretend they did. That's what people do."

"Yeah." I said.

We left quietly, getting into the Mystery Machine and driving away. As we drove on by, I looked out of the window - people were slowly getting to their feet inside the television studio...soon, an ambulance would be called, taking Wolfgang Smith away. Common sense told me that we were in trouble. Three people with a history with the deceased...spotted bursting into the studio, later seen fleeing in a brightly-colored van. It looked bad. Fred was right - it didn't matter that nobody had _seen_ us attack Wolfgang. The fact that they were all asleep when it happened wasn't possible in their minds, and therefore couldn't have happened. Therefore, all that remained was that we'd attacked and killed someone on live television...

We were in a _lot_ of trouble.

/

/

 **Velma**

The place was already a shambles when we rushed in. Exhibits lay strewn across the floor, and a large chunk of the wall was missing. I didn't even want to think about what had caused that. But a quick glance at the dogs told me that this was the final showdown, one way or the other. They were all holding swords. Scimitars, to be precise. Each and every one of them. Like in the mall, and indeed in the car dealership, everybody inside was asleep. I was pretty sure this wasn't the case throughout all of Coolsville, but certainly in this area...

I wanted to hide my eyes, but I couldn't quite bring myself to look away...darn it, I wished the Whispering would for once use it's powers for good, put some kind of black out screen before my eyes...preferably something that came with sound proof...I did _not_ want to watch this. My jaw clenched tightly. I picked out Scooby Doo, holding a weapon but looking terrified. My heart burned for him, and at that moment I wanted nothing more than to rush up to him, to hug him tightly, to let him lick my face affectionately...but I couldn't. If I did, I'd be cut to pieces...

The two dog gangs stood about thirty yards from one another glaring, growling, each holding a sword with both of their clawed foreleg paws and with their hind legs spaced out in a battle like stance. After a few seconds of glaring at each other, they began running on their back legs at one another and started sword fighting, destroying anything that was in their way.

I watched in horror, hearing Shaggy moan in terror next to me. They slashed paintings, smashed glass and crashed into display cases. They even caused a dinosaur skeleton to collapse. Within moments, Burch and Algeron were wounded and laying on their backs.

"Enough," Shaggy screamed suddenly, picking up one of the larger dinosaur bones, "Enough!"

He threw it - it was a great long thing, twice the length of a human leg. For a moment, I thought he was mad. But no. He knew exactly what he was doing. At the end of the day, dogs are dogs. Some might talk a little, some might eat way too much, and who knows, some might be the servants of a disembodied alien from another universe...but dogs are dogs. And if there's one thing dogs love, it's tug of war.

The remaining ten dogs couldn't help themselves when they saw the bone. They dropped the scimitars with a clatter, and rushed to the bone. The two "teams" grabbed either end of it and tugged, their tails wagging. They stayed on their hind legs pulling with what little strength they had until the dinosaur bone broke cleanly in two with a nasty snap and a puff of plastic dust - it would be plastic, wouldn't it?

They were all lagging badly now, exhausted from the prolonged battle, each of them sporting various wounds. Algeron and Burch were pretty bad, but they were both struggling back upright...but the bone was gone, the brief interlude of playfulness over...I watched in dismay as they began snarling at each other again, edging back towards the swords...

Then, with a sudden _pop_ , six of them were gone. The Whispering's six. They were gone!

"Jinkies!" I exclaimed, smiling a little as Scooby and his family pulled each other into a big cuddly pile-up of dogs, hurt and shaken, yet victorious. I would later discover that the moment the dogs vanished was indeed the very moment that Wolfgang Smith's empty hijacked body was beaten to death, casting the Whispering away. The moment the Whispering's new physical body died was the very same moment the dogs vanished. I didn't know that at the time. Indeed, I didn't even know Wolfgang Smith was involved at this time. But I guessed that the sudden disappearance of the dogs could only be good news.

Shaggy, while reasonably sharp, wasn't quite up to my standard (even if I say so myself). He frowned, unable to comprehend what he'd just seen.

"What just happened?" He asked me, confused.

"They're gone," I said simply, "they were never really there. They were nothing but glorified shadows...like the little boy. The more we believe they were real, the more real they became."

"Well, okay. But why did they vanish? What does it mean?"

"It means that whatever the others did, it worked. It means the Whispering's power is gone."

"Thank goodness for that, then." Shaggy said softly. The both of us smiled as Scooby and his family, realizing that it was all over - that they'd won - pulled each other into a tight pile-up of a hug on the floor. "Scooby Dooby Doo!" Scooby barked happily.

"Come on," I laughed, "let's get out of here...back to the mall. I'll text the others, tell them to meet us there."

/

/

 **Daphne**

Coolsville seemed fine...more or less, anyway. As we drove back to the shopping mall, we passed by the Coolsville History Museum, where a police cordon was set up outside the door. As we drove past, I caught a glimpse of the inside. It had been torn apart by something. Further along the street, a car dealership; the owner was standing outside, looking apoplectic, screaming and shouting at his employees. No wonder - most of his cars were wrecked.

"What's happened?" I gasped.

"Not a clue," Fred replied, still looking badly shaken. He was traumatized by what he'd had to do, but there was more than that - he was worried. No surprises there! I was worried too. Not just for Coolsville, but for myself! For Fred and Lauren too. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure that "Wolfgang's" death wasn't caught on any of the cameras in the studio...if it had been, we were finished. To an outsider, it looked like cold-blooded murder on our part. But if it hadn't...well, dare I say it, but daddy had a lot of connections, if you get what I mean. He could call in favors...if we were _very_ lucky, he might be able to persuade someone important to drop the case on us, if indeed it came to that...

Freddie turned into the parking lot at the mall.

"There!" Lauren exclaimed, pointing across the empty space. Two figures stood at the far end of the lot, surrounded by the shape of six dogs. There was no sign of the other six. I'd hoped there wouldn't be.

Freddie parked up and we went over to the others. Velma looked at us earnestly. "Well?" she said abruptly.

I nodded, "we did it...it was _Wolfgang_ , Velmster. It had possessed him...he was there, at the studio!"

"Figures," replied Velma, "probably getting interviewed about the case at the Rancher's Lot. But did it transmit the white noise?"

"Yeah," I said glumly, "but maybe...maybe we got it before it could do any damage?"

Velma could only shrug. "I don't know."

"It's not just that," Lauren interrupted, cutting right across my reply (she hadn't noticed I was going to speak again), "but we had to kill Wolfgang...well, I guess he was already dead, but...it might have been on camera..."

"Ah." Velma said, "well...Daphne's dad, he might be able to..."

She stopped, her expression turning to horror. For a moment I wondered what was wrong. Then I noticed her eyes were actually looking past me now, somewhere over my shoulder. Slowly, I turned - a truck was tearing down the road outside the parking lot, fast. Really fast. I looked at the driver - his eyes were glazed over, his expression blank. He had no idea what he was doing. We all turned to look. The truck was speeding up now, and heading straight for a busy intersection...

"No," I said, "no..."

I closed my eyes a moment before the crash. But I heard it- the screams, the clash of metal on metal, the shatter of brickwork as one or more vehicles plunged into buildings...

"It's doing it," I whimpered, tears of anger streaming from my eyes - yes, anger. I was beyond fear now. Why didn't it just die? Rid the world of it's scum! "Why won't you just _die_!" I screamed, collapsing to my knees and sobbing, knowing that somehow, somewhere, the Whispering was listening to my every word, laughing at my anguish. "Just _die_!"

"Calm down," Fred said, clutching my shoulders gently. But even as he spoke, there was the sound of an explosion. A distant one. It came from somewhere in the city center.

"It's the Whispering!" I cried, and I knew that I was experiencing another panic attack. My chest and throat was tightening, and my breath was coming in rasping wheezes. Scooby Doo bounded up to me, concerned, and I tried to stroke him. But my movements were so clumsy, so desperate that I ended up digging my fingernails into him. He yelped, and jumped back.

The Whispering was doing this - my intuition had been right all along. We _were_ too late. The white noise had been broadcast. The truck crash, the explosion (whatever it was) in the city center, and whatever other terrible things were now happening in Coolsville...it was causing them. It was possessing people, probably people who had watched the broadcast. That driver's face told me, beyond any doubt, that this was the Whispering's work. My vision went hazy and dark, my chest feeling totally closed. I lay down on my back, the hard concrete of the parking lot as comfortless as a bed of nails...I couldn't move. I was Velma dialing a number, thousands of miles above me, and I guessed it was an ambulance for me. Yet I could already hear sirens...sirens, attending the crash, the explosion up town, and whatever other disasters were now springing up all over Coolsville, an epidemic of accidents and disasters...

Just before I lost consciousness, a final thought floated into my mind. Coolsville was being destroyed from the inside. My city, the place I called home...it was dying.

Then everything went black.

/

 **Note: Again, credit to Dark Fox Tailz for the dog-fight scenes. I'll update soon - the next two chapters are the last ones. Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading this, I hope you'll enjoy the conclusion!**


	23. It Ends: Daphne Blake Beats the Odds 1

_**Lauren**_

 _The horror which awoke in Coolsville over a hundred years ago, and which existed for millions of years before that, was finally killed (if indeed it was ever alive) on a blisteringly cold day in November, the day after what had come to be known as "The Great Chaos Epidemic of Coolsville."_

 _It all started, so far as I can remember, with a very sick girl in hospital, and a very scared girl who came to visit - Daphne and myself respectively._

 _This girl had collapsed, shortly after the Great Chaos Epidemic of Coolsville commenced...that's a mouthful, isn't it? Let's call it the "that day" instead. Makes life easier, right? Anyway, uh...yes, so the sick girl collapsed. In the end, it was all too much for her. She'd poured her heart and soul into destroying the Whispering (something she went on to achieve), but when it became apparent what was happening on "that day", it was simply too much. It had looked like a panic attack, but it wasn't. It was worse..._

 _Daphne Blake, young healthy and with no history of any such medical conditions, had suffered a heart attack. An actual heart attack._

 _I won't bore you with the details of what came next - I'm sure you can imagine most of it. In short, as the city turned to chaos all around us, as cars crashed, buildings collapsed and an unexpected thunderstorm lashed down, Daphne was rushed to hospital and hooked up to the usual assortment of hideous drips and machines. Her friends (including myself) were worried. That's an understatement. As a matter of fact, we were terrified for her. The doctors didn't like her odds or surviving. Not one bit._

 _It was Fred I felt the worst for - whenever he thought about his future, Daphne was there. He was, by his very nature, a bit of a daydreamer. Previously, I'd thought he was stupid - typical high school jock, all looks and nothing behind them. But that wasn't it. He was just... thinking. Lost in thought. But in all of these thoughts, Daphne was there by his side. Every daydream, no matter how different those daydreams might be from one another - she was a running theme throughout all of them, a constant and immortal presence in his happiest visions of the future. Whatever job he was in, wherever he was living, however many kids they had, she was always there in his dreams. Always._

 _But now, impossibly, it looked like she wouldn't be there - couldn't be there. That she would die here and now, and his future, whichever form it eventually took, would be devoid of her..._

 _I remember the last day of the horror so well. The day after "that day". I will talk about what I personally know of those events in a little while - there's something I did on the final day, something which was vitally important to the victory which we - or rather, Daphne - won. I did something very ruthless that day. Something which terrified me and traumatized me, but something which had to be done._

 _I'll talk about that later - for now I want to talk about what happened to me on "that day." Specifically, who I met._

/

I wasn't asleep - I know that. But I was dozing. I was in the waiting room, in the atrium of the Schofield Medical Center - the same hospital where they'd brought me after what happened at Boccino Heights, the same hospital where I'd met Mystery Inc - trying to fall asleep under the dazzling white lights on the ceiling. I was quite alone. This part of the hospital, while still lit, was deserted. Of course, I wanted to go home. But I couldn't.

Outside, the rain continued to lash down, and the incidents uptown were relentlessly continuing. I'd been checking my phone - it was car crashes for the most part. And I'd been monitoring the news all day - at least four of the drivers had said, upon arrest, "I don't have a clue what happened."

Then there were the buildings collapsing - random buildings. Mainly older ones. Caused by gas or electrical explosions for the most part. Anyone who'd heard the white noise on the news was vulnerable - they might be chosen. If they were chosen, their concentration would wane, their awareness would lapse. The Whispering would infiltrate their minds and put them on standby...and then, when that was done, the trouble would begin. The cars they'd been driving would swerve out of control, the ovens they'd been cooking in would overheat and go up in flames...you get the picture. It was bad. "That day" was upon us, and unseen but keenly felt, the Whispering hovered, organizing the disasters and poisoning the minds of innocent people. The death toll was rising hourly, and the whole city was in lockdown. Emergency services were overwhelmed, and the hospitals were full to capacity - this one included. It was only quiet here because it had been locked - I slipped through a staff entrance to get here.

In short, I was trapped in this hospital. To go outside was inviting death or serious injury.

The others were upstairs, gathered around Daphne. Her parents, and her three remaining sisters, were all coming (assuming they'd survive the journey), and I didn't want to be there when they did. I hadn't really known Daphne for long, I wasn't part of Mystery Inc...I felt that close friends and family should be there, and nobody else. From what I've heard of Daphne's dad, I'm not sure he'll agree about the close friends part. He doesn't like Fred. -

 _ **\- the battle is won, but sacrifices are to come -**_

\- I was too used to these thoughts to pay any heed. They'd been appearing in my head for weeks now. Shrugging it off, I laid down flat along the seats in the waiting room and shut my eyes. The lights shone through my eyelids, leaving me with an uncomfortable burnt reddish view behind my closed eyes. Sighing, I turned to my side, my view turning a more comfortable darker colour. But it didn't help. The seats were uncomfortable, and I was nervous. I wouldn't hear anybody coming, anyone could walk right up to me without my knowing if my eyes were shut -

 _ **\- Lauren -**_

\- I sat up straight again, my heartbeat quickening. That was new. That voice had never said my name before...it had never acknowledged me in the slightest. It had just...spoken. But now -

 ** _\- I'm here, with you! Can't you see me? -_ **

I was properly scared now. I stood up, scanning the room, my heart thumping painfully in my chest. There was nobody here...nobody.

Except there was - standing across the empty atrium was a figure - a smokey, distorted figure. For a horrible moment, I thought it was the Whispering. Dressed as the old man, perhaps. Except there was no top-hat, and the figure was more slender than that...and familiar. Strangely familiar.

This thing was the voice that had been speaking to me and Daphne for all this time. But what was it?

"Who are you?" I repeated, keeping a distance.

It didn't move. The figure had no clear face, no lips for me to read. But the reply simply floated into my mind -

 _ **\- The Whispering. The good side -**_

"The...good side?"

 _ **\- Sure. We are the minds that say no. The minds that want this to stop -**_

"Help us stop it, then!" I insisted, taking a cautious step towards it...that was definetley a woman's silhouette in the smoke, and it looked like Daphne (and, by extension, a little bit like me).

I understood. "D...Dawn?" I muttered. It ignored me.

 _ **\- We can't help you...the Whispering still has control over us, we can't tell you how to destroy it. Much though we'd like to-**_

"Then what do we do?" I asked it weakly. "The city's falling apart, and Daphne might be dying...we don't have a clue what to do! Even Velma doesn't know!"

 _ **\- You've won already-**_

"We haven't! We don't know what to do! Tell us! Is it something to do with the Other, or-

 _ **\- We can't help you, and the Other won't help you. The Other has done enough -**_

"If you can't help, go away. Whatever you are."

 _ **\- As you wish - but while we can't help you, we can tell you this much; the Whispering is, by it's instinct, desperate for physical form...it nearly has a new one -**_

Then it was gone.

I sat back down weakly...my mind was racing. I knew that the answer, or at least the pathway to the answer, had just been given to me... it was in there somewhere...I racked my brains. What did I know, I asked myself? I knew, for example, that the Whispering used to have a physical form of sorts. It manifested itself as the man-child creature for generations. But we destroyed that form at the retirement home, oh so long ago...so what did that leave?

Yes, it could possess human beings - it possessed Wolfgang Smith...

So what did that leave?

It left a question - based on this new information, it's not simply the case that it can possess people. It seems to be that, if it can, then it _will_ possess people. What was it the apparition had said? It's instinctively driven to do it?

What did that imply?

It implied that, like an animal, the creature (if that's the right word) wouldn't even think about it...given the choice, it would do it without a second thought. It craves physical existence like a dog craves a bone.

Which leaves the big question; why in the blazes had it selected Wolfgang Smith? Why not just...anyone?

The answer? Because it can't get just anyone. It can sort of hypnotize anybody (like my Clifford), yet it can't actually take over a body unless...

Unless it's allowed to. Really, truly allowed to, like stupid bitter Wolfgang must have allowed it to...

Or if the person is dead...if there is no mind to take over, just an empty body...if a person is alive, perhaps their mind can force the Whispering out...

Then I understood. I understood exactly what was going to happen.

Then, eventually, I worked out my role in what was to come. I just knew, suddenly. I knew what I had to do...and if it went wrong, it would shatter my heart into pieces...

I had to kill Daphne Blake. For a little while, at least.

/

/

 **Fred**

 _Like Lauren, I remember the final day very vividly - how could I forget? That was the day when Daphne died. For a bit. But at the time, for all I knew, it was forever. It could very easily have been forever._

 _Do I hate Lauren Howle? I hate what she did that day, although there's no doubt it saved our lives._

 _She killed Daphne._

 _I'm not going to be the one who relates that awful, horrific scene. That should, by all fairness and equity, be left to Lauren herself. But what I_ _would_ _like to write about is a conversation I had with George Blake, the night before the end._

 _Yes, you read that correctly - I, Fred Jones, had an actual_ conversation _with George Blake. One that didn't end in bruised ribs and split lips._

 _So, here's the picture - the night was drawing in on what had turned out to be just about the worst day Coolsville had ever seen. At roughly the same time that Lauren was trying to sleep in a closed off waiting room, and the city was still in the grip of an epidemic of disasters and accidents, I was sitting with Daphne. Quite alone. Shaggy had needed to chance the journey back to Mystery Inc - Scooby Doo and the rest of the dogs were there. Shaggy, normally such a coward, didn't so much as hesitate. He needed to get back to his pals, and no amount of danger would keep them apart. He got back safely. He texted Velma to let us know._

 _Velma had excused herself. She told me that she was going to look for Lauren, but I knew better - her eyes were watery and her voice a strange, high pitched whine. She was trying desparatley to keep it together, and she managed. But right now, I guessed she was, like Lauren, alone someplace, sobbing uncontrollably._

 _So that left me - I sat by Daphne's bedside, clutching her hand. The door opened. I looked up and was, as ever, terrified to see Daphne's father bearing down on me, pure loathing etched onto his face...but what he told me that day was just about the last thing I'd ever expected to hear...he'd sat down on the opposite side of Daphne's bed with a thump, and -_

 _/_

\- told me he was dying.

"What?" I said sharply, as uneasy as ever in his overbearing presence, "dying?"

"What are you, a parrot? Yes, dying. Oh, I feel fine for now. Fine as wine. But the fact is, my old heart isn't...isn't up to scratch these days."

I looked at him, and back down to Daphne, frowning, "How long have you had a bad heart? I mean, look at Daph! Not twenty-five, and stuck in bed with-"

"Yes, it may be hereditary," George interrupted, "especially as I was quite unaware of it myself until very recently."

"Gee, Mr. Blake," I began slowly, "I know we aren't uh...we don't see eye to eye, but -"

"Oh do be quiet," George interrupted for a second time, "we both know that when I'm gone, nobody will miss me less than you."

I shook my head, "Mr. Blake...I've never hated you. I'm darn terrified of you, don't get me wrong. Could you blame me?"

George smiled grimly. "Remember the first time we met?"

"You threw me out of the window."

"Yes, yes. But give me some credit, it _was_ already open. Look...the thing is, you could have been an ideal man - a _proper_ job, decent money, a good brain, a good home, and a stable life...but even if you had been those things, I would still have given you a hard time. Maybe not as hard - but hard enough. Tell me why."

"Because you love her," I replied, gesturing to Daphne, "you want to be sure that the man she chooses is good enough for her."

"Right." George replied.

"And you still think I'm not? What could I ever do to persuade you? What would it take? I do love her! I always have, I always will...and now it looks like...it looks..." I broke off, a sob cracking from my throat, "it looks as though both you and her might not be around to find out if I was good enough...if she doesn't pull through, the happiness we might of had is gone. _You_ took it! You made it impossible for us to even try!"

I thought my little speech might finally crack the unbreakable steel man sitting opposite me. I thought, perhaps, my little tirade might finally subdue him, finally make things right...finally, perhaps, make him accept me.

I thought wrong. He waved a hand casually and scoffed, dismissing my speech as thought it were little more than a bad smell.

"Pull yourself together you runty little pillock. It's time for hard facts now - firstly, I think Daphne will pull through. Call it fathers' intuition if such a thing exists...but I think she will. Now, secondly we have this; in answer to your earlier question, there is nothing you could do, nothing _whatsoever,_ to convince me that a preening little man-child such as you will ever be good enough for a girl like my Daphne."

He paused, staring at me impassively. I was about to respond, but he held up a huge hand, and I fell silent at once.

"So therefore," he continued, "you might think yourself rather fortunate that I won't be around for much longer."

I stared at him...could be possibly be hinting at what I thought he was...

"Mr. Blake," I began, "are you...are you actually saying..."

"All I am saying," he replied, "is that a dead man cannot voice his displeasure in such matters. Such a man would have to accept that what came after his death is neither within his control, nor is it his business. And that's all I shall say."

He stood up, bending over to kiss Daphne on the cheek. "I shall leave you, for a time," he announced sternly, "My wife and I are downstairs - I don't know what's going on out there, but it's chaos. We couldn't go home if we'd wanted to."

"Yeah..." I had some ideas about what was happening out there, but none which I wished to share with George, "Mr. Blake...thanks. And I am sorry. I don't care if you believe it or not. I am."

He nodded complacently, "me too, boy," he replied gruffly, turning to leave. Before he could touch the door, however, it opened. Lauren walked in, her face grim and pale.

"Lauren, this is George Blake. Daphne's dad." I told her.

"Pleased to meet you," Lauren said, offering her hand.

"Likewise, my dear." George said, taking it in his considerably larger hand.

Then, without another word to any of us, he left. Strange - he didn't leave with any of the usual grand swagger in which he walked...it was almost like a shuffle...and I could have sworn I saw tears in his eyes as he rounded the corner and left.

/

/

 **Lauren**

 _What a strange man._

 _That was my first and, for some time, my only impression of the infamous George Blake. I didn't get any of the "scary" vibes from him, but that brief moment when he took my hand...for a moment, our eyes locked and it was as though he was trying to see straight through me...his eyes, though meeting mine, seemed to gaze blankly into space, and whatever he was seeing in that far off realm to which his mind had wandered seemed to be upsetting him greatly._ _Then again, perhaps I was being harsh - his daughter was lying critically ill, and you could well imagine what horrible visions such a parent would have._

 _But enough of George Blake - indeed, as he walked from the room, so he walked out of this story for ever._

 _I turned to Fred and Daphne slowly, my heart pumping and my eyes aching with tears I refused to let spill. Fred opened his mouth to say something to me, but I didn't bother focusing on his lips - it didn't matter. It really didn't matter._

 _Then, looking directly at Daphne, I took two steps into the room and yanked the life support system's tubes from her body._

 _/_

 _/_

 **Fred**

 _I was on my feet in a flash - I dragged Lauren from Daphne, ignoring her protests to the contrary..._

 _/_

Daphne flatlined. A hideous beeping noise came from the machines behind her, and she had a small convulsion on the bed. Her eyes remained tightly shut.

"What have you done? You stupid girl! _What have you done?_ "

Lauren fought back, with strength far in excess of what I'd expected from a woman her size. But still, I easily dragged her away.

She murmured something in response, but her voice was muffled with tears as well as deafness - I could kill her! She'd killed Daphne! Killed her!

But no...no, I mustn't. It was _it_ , wasn't it? The Whispering had made her do it...right?

Except now I listened closer, I could make out what she was saying; "we had to...the Whispering wants her body! It's the ultimate prize...it has to get in...if it does, she can kill it!"

/

 _Before I could reply, a team of doctors and nurses rushed in, and we were ushered out of the room without a second glance...later, they would query why the tubes were out. We would reply that Daphne had suffered a huge convulsion and they'd all ripped out. Although they didn't believe that, we stuck to the story rigidly. George Blake, of all people, vouched for us - he assured them that I would never ever do such a thing, and that there was no reason to think that Lauren would either...because Lauren was right. I was terrified beyond belief at that moment, watching a team of anxious doctors desparatley trying to revive the love of my life...I didn't think they would._ They _didn't think they would._

 _But Lauren did. Because she'd been promised that everything would fall into place. And, finally, it did._

 _/_

 _/_

 **Daphne**

 _Lauren was right of course - I was the golden prize to the Whispering - the body of the girl who'd defied it. As soon as she "killed" me, it pounced. And it took me to it's realm. It took me_ inside _it. That is where the final battle was fought. And that, I think, was where the Whispering died. For good._

 _But there was a problem - when all is said and done, I was "dead" for only two minutes. They did revive me! And then, with Dawn at my side, I killed the Whispering. Except that time moved differently there. Two minutes didn't feel like two minutes to me. It felt like ages. When I say ages, I mean ages. Sixty-five million years, to be precise._

 _What I'm trying to say is that, from my perspective, it took me sixty-five million years to destroy the Whispering._

 _But we'll come to that. When Lauren "killed" me, I woke up. I woke up in an impossible place..._

/

At some deep level of awareness, I had known that I was in hospital. I knew also that I was gravely ill.

Quite suddenly, for reasons I can't understand, I was ripped from my body. It were as though someone had hooked me up to a ski-lift run on energy drinks by the back of my unflattering hospital gown (complete with those stupid knee length socks they give you in hospitals). I was hauled violently upwards, though in truth I'd done no more than convulse slightly. My physical self, I was aware, stayed in bed. I didn't.

I was brought _here_.

And here, I recognized. A dark, airless void of never ending blackness, punctuated by the occasional flair of violent emotion, emotion which seemed almost to float around my head, seemed almost _visible_.

I was in the heart of the Whispering.

I gazed down at my feet, and realized that there was a floor...a cold stone floor, granite grey and dusty. As I watched, it became more visible, somehow more real. All around me, big walls of the same stone were slowly appearing, a stone ceiling growing above my head...before long, I was standing in a cave.

The entrance (leading out into a windy plateau of grass) was blocked. A massive creature stood in front of it, eight feet high and covered with thick, oily fur. It began to charge, it's claws outstretched and scrabbling for my face. I tried to scream, but only a thin moan came out...I couldn't get out...I had to go further into the cave, or this monstrosity would eat me alive...

So I ran. As I ran, I had a horrible sensation...time seemed to be passing very quickly, very quickly indeed. One moment I was in a natural cave, the next the walls were tiled and the ceiling delibaratley rounded...a tunnel. The creature behind me ( _so_ close behind me) had changed, it's fur becoming smooth, two huge glowing eyes jutting out of it's head so as to see in the increasing darkness. But I too was changing. As I ran, I fingered a lock of my hair, and whimpered to see flecks of grey in it. I ran for no more than thirty seconds, but in this strange, warped dimension, time rushed past like a Maglev freight train.

I stopped to catch my breath - the creature was gone. In it's place stood a boy in a Victorian coat.

"You are dead," it squealed, cartwheeling and dancing around, "And I'll have form again! Thanksh Daphne Blake!"

Then, it was gone.

The scene changed. The tiled walls fell away, and the darkness returned...then, came the towers. Huge towers of strange patterns and colors, towers made of the smoothest plastic. Except, when I looked closer, I saw they weren't towers at all. They were characters, characters from my childhood...at once, they came to life, leering down at me and stomping around in delight.

It was the cast of Tom and Jerry! All of the characters, dancing in a circle around me. They stomped and crashed around, laughing and joking. They weren't trying to crush me - they were trapping me. And they couldn't do that! I couldn't be trapped, because time was passing! I grabbed a fist of my hair again. Grey! Oh blimey, oh jeepers, it's going grey! I felt my face, shocked to feel lines and loose skin there...no! No, no, no, no, no!

The giant characters vanished. Now it was Pinky and the Brain! Along with Snowball, they were lined up a few feet (or was it a thousand miles) ahead of me across the inky blackness...they charged, keeping perfectly in line. Even as I screamed and shut my eyes, I knew they weren't really going to crush me...it was all to scare me, to keep me from doing anything. Time was what was killing me.

And yet, there was a clue to find in this! For all I might have known, I was hopelessly lost in a whirlpool of darkness, half-formed ideas and negative thoughts, doomed to wither and die by the rapid onslaught of time...but the Whispering was trying to distract me. Which meant that there was something it didn't want me to do.

Which means that there was something I _could_ do. But what was it?

I held a hand out in front of me, a wrinkled old hand showing veins and bones, the nails yellowish and uneven...I'd been here for about a minute, yet I'd been here for a hundred years or more...my body was obeying the laws of time as they operated here, inside the Whispering.

Is this how time felt for the Whispering? It had been over two years since it killed Dawn, and about eighteen months since the day it first appeared to me...yet here, that time had passed in a matter of seconds. In less than a minute, I had been rendered ancient...

In other words, my battle with the Whispering had lasted a few seconds from it's perspective.

I was getting seriously frail now. Just as another image burst to life around me, I collapsed, landing on a smooth stone floor. I was in a room, some weird science-fiction room...my vision was turning yellow and my hair was going white...my vision blurred, my hearing dulled, and every movement felt difficult...I was...I...I...

/

/

 **Michael Robson**

 _The power went out at the River's Whisper Retirement Complex. But we'd been lucky - a fire truck had collided with a neighboring building and had reduced it to rubble...that could have been us!_

 _The power was taken out by a helicopter. It had crashed into the local power plant, killing seven people. The news channels (those which was still able to broadcast) were reporting mass casualties in the city..._

 _The rain lashed down outside the windows, and I heard a rumble of thunder. I was dismayed. What on Earth was happening in Coolsville?_

 _Suddenly, I realized that I'd been clutching my scars for the past half-hour..._

 _"Oh,_ Daphne _." I moaned softly. I began to cry._

 _/_

 _/_

 **Marcus Bateman**

 _This was a bloomin' nightmare! Just_ what _was going on round here?_

 _Everything was going wrong! I'd been on the subway, right? Rushing to get to work. Somehow, I'd slept in until noon! Noon! I'd got no excuse...the alarm had gone off, my wife had gotten up and gone to work, the kids had gone to school...I'd slept through! Crikey! I'd missed a television interview!_

 _I had some serious grovelling to do at work...except I couldn't get there. Halfway through the tunnel, the power went out. The train stopped, the lights went out. Along with the other passengers, I had to walk along a side-path in the tunnel to the next station, but when I got there, it was stuffed full of people! Nobody wanted to go out on the streets, and I was too chicken to break the tradition..._

 _Above us on the streets, sirens wailed incessantly. The rain poured down by the bucket load, and the air was still and unpleasant...my wife and kids were at home, and a horrible thought crossed my mind - would I actually ever see them again? Or is Mark-O the Man signing out today?_

 _/_

 _/_

 **Benjamin Waltzher, Senior Consultant, Coolsville Specialist Hospital**

 _I wasn't an emergency doctor, but needs must. There had been a_ lot _of emergencies today._

 _Broken bones, blood loss, burns, shock...ambulance and ambulance flooded in, delivering injured patients in a constant stream. Some of them had died. The injuries were severe in some cases, caused by fires, crashes, explosions or collapses..._

 _Can a city die? Can a city be poisoned?_

 _Yes and yes again. But these symptoms were unlike any I'd ever seen...not poison in the air, nor invasion from some hostile armed force. Accidents and disasters as plague._

 _Nothing about it made sense. Perhaps it never would. It was a mystery illness, but it was a deadly one if left untreated...Coolsville would be rubble before the week is out..._

 _This is one disease which I don't have a clue how to cure, ladies and gentleman._

 _/_

 _/_

 **Bruce Host**

 _I_ _waddled over to the window in my stained white vest top and blue boxer shorts, looking out in dismay._

 _"Well ain't that something to look at..." I blurted out to myself, a can of beer in my hand. "Sweet Bill! The flamin' city! 'Aye 'Aye! You listen up, residents of Coolsville! You protect that darn liquor store for ya' uncle Bruce, ya' hear? I'd 'ave to walk ten whole minutes if that place gets wrecked, innit!"_

 _I laughed humorlessly. I was a fat, good for nothing slob. I knew that. But I wasn't a cruel man. Humor was my way of coping with horrible things, and this, ya'll be certain to be sure about, is about the worst day I can ever remember...so much disaster! But why? Why? When did it start? The news at ten had been cut, I remember that...that was the first sign that anything was wrong. They had that weird guy on, then it just...cut out._

 _And, more to the point, where was Lauren? Was she safe? Was she somewhere safe? Sweet Bill! I sent her out, I did! I got her a taxi! If anything's happened to her then...then...then..._

 _Then I fell asleep. It was hours before I woke up. I was shocked. It was lucky I hadn't left the oven on, lucky I hadn't been driving..._

 _Something bad might have happened._

 _/_

 _/_

 **Lauren**

 _I watched impassively through the window of Daphne's room as the medics tried to revive her, using equipment I could make neither head nor tail of. They desparatley reconnected all the wires, they shocked her, they constantly looked up at her vitals, hoping for a change...some change._

 _I watched. I was almost catatonic. The shock of what I'd done had effectively crashed my mind...although at heart, I knew I'd been right. I needed to do it, and anyway - Daphne was coming back._

 _I knew it...I_ almost _knew it for sure._

 _But there was something she needed to do before coming home..._

 _Snapping out of my daze, I noticed a few of the medical staff smiling faintly - glancing at the heart monitor, I noticed the slanting lines representing her heartbeat were back - Fred had collapsed to the floor sobbing beside me, but his face was a picture of sheer relief...he'd forgotten, so it seemed, that I was there, that I had been the one who pulled Daphne's life-support systems out..._

 _Nervously, I looked at Daphne, who I could faintly see breathing...she was alive. But she wasn't back. Not yet..._

 _/_

 _/_

 **Daphne**

 _And there, slumped helplessly within the heart of the Whispering, I would have died forever...or become part of it forever. It had chosen to bring me here at the point of death, and it would have left me here to rot. It would have taken my body...it would have all been over._

 _But, as Lauren knew would happen, the hospital team managed to revive me! I knew it too..._

 _/_

I finally looked up after hearing the scream - a scream of rage echoing all around the room, which promptly vanished back into the endless back mist. I was young again! My hair was brilliant orange, my skin smooth and soft. I leapt to my feet with energy and enthusiasm which a moment ago had totally gone. I could still feel time passing by me at rocket-speed, but it wasn't effecting me any longer. I was above it, somehow.

I was back. I was alive. The Whispering had possessed my dead body, but my body was no longer dead. I was back. The _owner_ of the property was home.

But the intruder wasn't going without a fight. Before me, in the darkness, a shape appeared, and I very nearly screamed. It was a man, dressed in Victorian clothes. But his face was utterly blank. No eyes, no nose, only a hideous gaping mouth. He stretched his arms out, and an army of such men erupted on either side of him, advancing towards me.

They charged - not running, simply walking swiftly. I tried to run, but there were more of them behind me -

 ** _\- you are alive, Daphne! You are strong -_**

\- Without thinking, I marched straight up to the nearest one, and sank my fist into it. The creature exploded in a puff of black smoke, screaming as it died. The blackness whirled and shifted again, and I was in a wide open field, thousands upon thousands of these faceless creatures moving towards me. Another one approached me, it's gloved hands outstretched. I thumped it, and like it's sibling, it exploded into dust.

It's sibling...

"No, no, no, no!" came a shrill voice, "I forbid it! I forbid it! You can't! You belong to _me_!"

But Dawn could, and Dawn did. With a pop, she was there by my side - my beautiful older sister. No - the good side of the Whispering. Using her form to speak to me. But it looked like her, acted like her. Smiled at me with the same love that she always did...it might not have been "real", but what was _real_? Coolsville? The world of talking dogs and people dressed in monster costumes? Was I real? Was the Whispering?

"She loved you, Daphne," the Dawn-like creature told me, "and that's more real than the Whispering will ever be."

"I l...loved her," I replied, my voice cracking. An ache of tears formed in my eyes, my throat burning. I noticed vaguely that the men weren't approaching any more...in fact, they were no longer there. I stood in a empty, endless field, facing the good side of the Whispering.

"She knew." It assured me.

"I want you home..." I said, crying openly now, "I've m...missed you so much..."

"I'm not Dawn," it replied softly in Dawn's voice, "but she is within me - the good side of the Whispering, the souls that wouldn't join the rest."

"But if I...if I k-kill it...you die too. She does..."

"Daphne - she died two years ago. Let her go. Let _us_ go. Destroy it."

"How?"

Dawn smiled again, and the field vanished...we were now inside some huge metal sphere, the walls looming over us and closing at a point above our heads. It was like being inside a giant dome, the bottom of which stretched a mile in any direction. Again, I had that disconcerting, indescribable certainty inside me that time had rushed past, millions of years of time...the Whispering had run away, and run away fast...

Because there was a living soul inside it, and living souls are _strong_ here. Stronger than the Whispering.

The small boy approached us, angry tears of fear and pain in his gleaming little eyes. As he ran towards me and Dawn, he swelled and grew into something else...some huge shape which I couldn't comprehend, some burning, twisting force which would have torn me apart.

As it approached, I stood my ground and said firmly, knowing it would work "Show me the hive!"

It screamed in fury, unable to stop...and then I saw it. It was a cloud, a swirling black could with electric blue minds swarming around it. So many minds, so many deaths. I reached forward and ripped two from the cloud. They vanished in my hands. I ripped more, knowing that I wasn't killing them, but setting them free. The Whispering screamed again. _"No, no, no no! I'll do anything! Stop! Stop! My knowledge! My form! Leave me! Leave me! I'll go! I'll leave your world and travel on! Stop this!"_

With a strong gust, it blasted me backwards. I scrambled up again, but the cloud was zooming away...the scene changed back to the darkness. The cloud, the hive mind that was the Whispering, was sailing away above my head, just like the last time. Running away, wounded, lesser and angry.

"Well," Dawn said to me brightly, "I guess if it ever comes back, you'll be ready eh? Some day it might get bored and give up."

I looked at Dawn, and back at the vanishing cloud. It had changed course now, sailing away somewhere to my side across the blackness. Fleeing aimlessly. I looked at Dawn again, who continued to smile.

"All right, big sis. I'm ready. Let's kill it."

She smiled wider, "good choice. I think you'll manage to catch up, little sister."

I set off running after the cloud, firstly running then floating...rushing through the black nothingness, as time continued to race past. I could feel the time, I could _feel_ all the centuries I'd been here...but for me, mere minutes had gone by.

I had halved the distance between me and the Whispering now, zooming towards it. I could hear it screaming and crying and begging, _"I'm the only one of my kind! If you do this, you end a species! You end me! You can't! You won't! You mustn't!"_

I had almost caught it now. I was flying ten times as fast. It's voice had changed into a whining, straining hiss, an echoing gassy voice in the swirling, endless void.

I was on top of it. Scrabbling madly, I pulled those electric-blue swirls from the smoky cloud. All the minds that sustained and grew the Whispering, and now they were all being taken again. More and more I took, ignoring the creatures pathetic cries and pleads as I set to work. There were less than half of them left, but I carried right on.

 _"You can't...can't...I...I...I don't know what I am! What am I! Information...failing...time...space...compromised Arrghh! Stop...stop...I don't...I...I...I..."_

I pulled the final mind from the hive, and with a final scream, the Whispering evaporated. The hive mind was gone, the scramble of stolen minds unraveled.

It wasn't just wounded this time. I'd destroyed it. I'd finished the job.

A faint shadow lingered, the faint shadow of a young woman who I knew only too well. This wasn't the good side of the Whispering - the Whispering was gone. This was one of the victims, staying on a little longer. She had something to say.

"Daphne," Dawn (the "real" Dawn) said softly, "you did it. You _did_ it!"

There was no helping it this time. I burst into tears on the spot, but I couldn't hug her for comfort. She wasn't there. She was dead, and now the Whispering had let her go. She was fading fast.

"I love you, Dawn." I told her urgently through my sobs, "I will _always_ love you, and I will _always_ remember you."

Dawn smiled. The darkness all around us was breaking up now. This was the realm of the Whispering, and the Whispering was destroyed.

"I'm proud of you Daphne. It's okay, don't cry anymore - you've set me free."

"I...I had to kill it. For you. For Coolsville."

"It's over now, Daph. Let go - live well."

"I wish you could come..."

"I can't. But you have to go now! This place is dying now. I'm almost gone too. Daphne - you've got to go! Go! Go back!

"I love you," I repeated, suddenly aware of a strange feeling...here I was, standing upright in the dark realm of the Whispering, feeling time rush past impossibly quickly. Yet I could feel myself lying down, I could feel a cover over me...strange things stuck in my arms...

"Go, Daphne." Dawn repeated, fading away entirely.

Time felt strange - I still felt as though I'd been here for millions of years - sixty-five million, to be precise...yet suddenly time snapped back into place, and I hadn't been long at all. My eyes were open, but they felt shut...I willed them open. I had to wake up. I had to go! This place was dying all around me now. It shuddered and collapsed, and if I didn't leave, I'd vanish with it...

"Up!" I screamed, "I'm waking up!"

There was a glare of bright light before me eyes now...I was lying down. The blackness faded...

/

And I woke up, lying in a hospital bed. Fred, Velma and Shaggy were here. So was Lauren.

I ignored them all as they jumped out of their chairs, crowding round me. The gang were fussing, asking if I was all right, asking if I needed a doctor. Fred was weeping with joy.

Lauren stood back from them a little, and asked me the pressing question; "is it done?"

I nodded. "It's done."

She grinned. "For good?"

"For good." I repeated.

Fred was still hovering over me. Ignoring whatever he was saying to me, I grabbed him and hugged him tightly, crying again. I looked over his shoulder to Velma, who joined in the hug. Then Shaggy did. Finally, reluctantly, Lauren joined in. I could sense that something had happened in the time I'd been out, something which had driven a huge wedge between Lauren and the rest of them. Nonetheless, Velma wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders, pulling her into the tight bundle around me. We all cried.

It was a long time before we stopped.


	24. Epilogue: Daphne Blake Beats the Odds 2

**Daphne**

 _There isn't much left for me to say, but it was Velma's idea that I write this down...after she got hurt in another mystery, she did the same. Helped her, so she said. I can't say whether or not it will help me, but let's give it a shot._

 _This story, it's not a nice one. Not pleasant. And at first, I came away from these events feeling nothing except scarred, traumatized and angry - yes, angry. Angry that these things had happened, angry that I'd lost my sister. Angry that destroying the Whispering hadn't changed the fact of her death, though I never expected it to._

 _But it did do plenty of good - the unnatural chaos which had fallen on Coolsville ended abruptly, the second I woke up in hospital. The second the Whispering was finally destroyed. The city was in ruins, and people were dead. But you know what's curious?_

 _For two weeks after my final battle, the sun shone gloriously every day. It was cold of course - it was November! But not a drop of rain fell, and the rebuilding began. The city was unhappy, of course. In shock and in mourning for the dead. But there was something in the air, something I could taste...a sort of vague happiness. The shared knowledge, however unconscious and unspoken among the citizens - Coolsville would rebuild. It would find it's way back. And when it did, the Whispering wouldn't be part of it. The city was free. Really, truly free._

 _Now that I stop and think about it, I realize that I was right about one thing - these events were terrible, something no human being should go through, certainly not something that should be survived... but I'd gone through them and done exactly that, and underneath the heartache and torment, I'd realized something quite remarkable. The Whispering had been evil. Utterly evil, without redemption._

 _But evil arises all the time. And it_ can _be defeated. And, when you look back through the history of the world, it usually is._

 _By the way, there was no miracle recovery for me - yeah, I woke up, but I was still pretty ill. My heart was dodgy (something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life, although it can be managed), and I spent two more weeks in that hospital bed. But I had plenty of visitors. Oh, I found out what Lauren did. But let me say this, in absolutely certain terms - I understand. And I forgive her. Absolutely and entirely. If she hadn't had the guts to do it, the Whispering wouldn't have been defeated. How could I possibly feel any resentment? I love her for what she did. Yes, I know that sounds weird. I love her for nearly killing me. But I do. I love her, because she had the guts to do what was needed, the guts to make the final showdown possible. No wonder the Whispering was always so scared of her. And because I forgive her, Mystery Inc forgives her._

 _Worse for me, by far worse, was the news of my father. The Whispering hadn't been lying. He was ill, and he wasn't going to get better. My bad heart was inherited from him, and his condition wasn't going to let up. He told me by himself, and he showed no emotion at all. I did. But I was determined to get better from that moment, to make sure his final months weren't spent worrying about me._

 _There was just...one more thing I needed to do. When they finally let me out, I made a phone call. To Mr. Robson._

 _"It's Daphne Blake." I told him. "I'm calling you to say that it's over. It's done. For real this time. It's gone."_

 _"You fantastic young woman," he sobbed over the phone, "how can I ever thank you?"_

 _"Just be happy, sir. And move on. Don't let it haunt you any more." I hung up. I never heard from from him again._

 _Velma told me to write an epilogue and I've done it. That will do. And that is all._

 _Very nearly. There is one more thing left to tell..._

 _/_

Four months after I left hospital, and nearly thirty months after the death of Dawn, my father, George Blake, passed away.

It was very peaceful - the Whispering was right that he was dying, but true to form, he neither cried nor squealed in fear. He faced death as he faced life - tough.

Needless to say, however, the rest of us didn't - couldn't - show such courage. For all his vices, I loved my father. We all did. For several weeks afterwards, I felt that same gnawing pain that I'd felt when Dawn died. Though it wasn't as harsh nor as overwhelming. Dawn had been horribly murdered. My father died at an old age, peacefully and contently, his family around him.

But it did still hurt.

The funeral was a small one. There were plenty of people who wanted to go, but as my sister Dorothy put it, "he hated most of his friends. He wouldn't want them there."

I laughed, "Yeah, this is how he'd want it. Just the family."

My mother only nodded. Too tired and grief-stricken to speak. We'd look after all. All of us. I, for instance, had offered to go through my father's old office and sort out his things, deciding what to keep and throw away, what needed examining by lawyers and what should belong to whom.

And it was on a warm spring day, doing that job, where I came across something very odd...a letter, sealed and unstamped in a small cupboard behind his computer. A cupboard where my mother never looked. This letter was addressed to two people. Daphne Blake, my good self. Below my name, there was another - Lauren Howle.

I took it curiously, somehow knowing to keep it from my mother - at least for now. I texted Lauren. She hadn't grown distant this time. We'd stayed in touch. There had even been a few dates between her and Shaggy! Anyway, I texted her and told her what I'd found. We agreed to open it together, and we decided to meet on a bench in Coolsville's central park.

/

So that's how I found myself, the next day, sitting with Lauren on a bench, the warm spring sun beating down on us.

"I hardly even spoke to your dad," she said, "why's he written a letter to me?"

"I dunno, it's to both of us," I replied, taking the letter gently from my pocket. "Well...shall we see what it says?"

"Yeah, go on." Lauren said, curiously.

I opened it, feeling my heartbeat picking up in my chest...I unfurled the crumpled letter inside the envelope, and we read it together. This is what it said;

 _Daphne, my darling,_

 _If you are reading this then I hope very much that your friend Lauren is with you too. I also hope you will be alone, although it doesn't particularly matter if not._

 _If you are reading this, I am almost certainly dead. If you are grieving for me, don't. I enjoyed life very much, and I tried my best to be a good father and a good husband to your mother._

 _But that's the purpose of this letter, really...the extent to which I have been both of those things. I hope you agree that I was a good father to you, Daphne. I hope you agree also that I was a good husband to your mother._

 _But the fact is, I wasn't always a good husband. Oh no. There were times, you see. In our younger years. You know I had a problem with alcohol in those days, and I think you know that we didn't get on very well, me and your mother. You may even suspect that I wasn't always a faithful husband. Your a smart girl. As are you Lauren, from what I understand. One of many things you both have in common._

 _It's with much shame, I have to confirm that if you did have those suspicions, they are true. Whether you did or didn't suspect, it must be a terrible thing to hear, and I'm truly sorry to tell you in this way. But there was no other way. I was unfaithful to your mother. I met another woman, and I saw her behind your mother's back. As I write this, I am weeping. She forgave me, and for my part I never drank again._

 _But this other woman and I...even when it was over, I kept a secret correspondence with her. You see, I owed her money. Perhaps if I tell you her name, you might begin to understand why - her name was Daisy. Daisy Greta Howle, in full. A name which should mean something to you, Lauren._

I looked up at Lauren, my heart racing. She returned my gaze, and neither of us spoke. We carried on reading. I felt as though I was floating.

 _That's all I can bring myself to say on a subject which to this day causes me great heartbreak and shame. Shame that I was unfaithful, shame that I continued to lie to her even after it was over. But most of all, shame that I failed one of my six daughters so badly. Not five. Six._

 _I hope, Daphne, that you won't think too poor of me after reading this. I hope you will forgive me, and I hope that you all will find it in your hearts to forgive me. But more than anything, I hope you and Lauren will stay in touch and look out for each other. After all...you_ are _half-sisters._

 _I wanted to tell you first, Daphne, because you know Lauren. Through some astonishing coincidence, you met her and became her friend, without having any idea of who she was. I hope you will tell the others. I think you will._

 _Lauren - I'm so sorry, my darling. I truly am. You never knew me, but I loved you, my baby girl._

 _\- Your father_

I folded up the letter and placed it back into the envelope. I wasn't floating...I was flying. I felt my body, sitting on the bench, but I wasn't part of it...I was numb.

But happy. So, so happy.

I slowly turned to face Lauren, who looked as shocked as me. Our eyes met. I gazed into her gorgeous blue eyes. _My_ eyes. I'd seen that the first time I'd met her, of course. I just hadn't looked.

She gazed at me. Our red hair gleamed in the sunlight.

Without a single word, I reached forward and hugged her tightly. She returned the hug.

The sun brightened as it passed through a light covering of cloud. I held onto my sister tightly, unable to say a word. Words would come, I knew. But for now, there was nothing to say. Nothing that needed to be said.

My name is Daphne Anne Blake. I lost my sister, and I went through a lot of torment, but that's over now. I did what needed to be done, and I saved Coolsville. My father came good in the end, because underneath everything, he was a good man.

And everything has fallen into place.

I have a wonderful life. A loving family, a wonderful set of friends, and a wonderful future ahead of me. I am one of the luckiest girls in the world.

Best of all, I know it.

 **Note: I really hope everyone enjoyed this. It's by far the longest story I've ever attempted, and it's taken nearly five months to complete. But I've greatly enjoyed writing it.**

 **A couple of things I want to say;**

 **1 - If you did enjoy this story, I've got two others. One is an action story and the other a comedy. Both are quite old now, but they are set in the same "world" as this one, so you'll see some characters you might recognize from the Whispering if you felt like reading them.**

 **2 - My friend Dark Fox Tailz wrote the scenes where the dogs are fighting each other, as he also did for my two previous Scooby Doo stories. Huge thanks to him.**

 **I think that's it. Massive thanks to everyone who stuck with this over the twenty-four chapters. I hope the ending satisfied you all.**

 **Any reviews are welcome. Thanks and best wishes!**


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